The Eighth Year
by Time-Space-And-Stories
Summary: The Battle is over; Voldemort is gone. So, now that Harry no longer has to worry about being the Chosen One, we now turn to Hermione, who has her last, extra year of Hogwarts to be spent as Head Girl alongside a particularly loathsome Slytherin. Despite this, it seems it is HE who inexplicably begins the gradual change of heart between them...
1. Chapter 1

**This is set after the Battle of Hogwarts - and so the year group that Harry, Hermione and Ron were in are advised to spend an Eighth Year at Hogwarts. [I know, typical fanfiction - but it does get better, I promise!] And thus, continuing with the typical theme, Hermione ends up as Head Girl - and the place of Head Boy is given to a familiar Slytherin we all know and love... (take a guess as to who THAT could be)**

 **This is going to be a multi-chapter story; I plan to put up a chapter each day/every couple of days (apologies if I don't stick very well to this, I'm terrible at being organised).**

 **I've rated it T - I could put it at a k+, but you can't be too careful with these things; and I don't know exactly what'll come up in future chapters. It should be completely fine, though :)**

 **Anyway, let me know if there are any minor mistakes or any possible improvements I can make!**

 **Enjoy reading :D**

* * *

Hermione crossed the room over to where Harry stood, having to reluctantly pull herself away from Ron's arms. The three were all within the bleak but homely abode of 12 Grimmauld Place, Ron and Hermione previously sat wrapped up together on the sofa, when Harry had stepped in with a letter in hand.

"What do you mean, it's for me," Hermione questioned, taking the enveloped message from him.

"It's from Hogwarts," Harry explained with a shrug.

Ron strode over to stand behind Hermione, glancing at the letter from over her shoulder. "Hogwarts?" he frowned. "But they already sent us our letters."  
It was now the summer for the three of them – that is, if they had just spent the last year at school. As it was, this had been the year they'd gone to destroy the remaining horcruxes, and they had finally triumphed over Voldemort at the battle of Hogwarts.

Of course, since they had missed a whole year of education – as did most of the rest of the school, considering those that had tainted the school by managing it in their own ways, they being death eaters – the newly found headmistress, Professor McGonagall, decided it would be best for those in the same year as the trio to stay within education for another year. This announcement had been sent out via owl, which all three of the young adults had received at Grimmauld Place not that long ago.

Hermione opened up the letter and quickly scanned through the message. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards in relief and happiness. "Oh," she breathed, looking up to smile at Ron and Harry. "I'm going to be Head Girl."

"Really?" Harry grabbed the letter out of her grasp to read it himself. "That's… brilliant, Hermione."  
"I knew you'd be Head Girl, if the chance ever came along," Ron nodded, patting Hermione affectionately. "I've always said you're amazing at everything."  
Hermione snorted, and Harry rose his eyebrows towards the now bemused looking redhead.

Malfoy Manor was dull and bleak, as was the cold expression on Draco Malfoy's face, who sat within the black leather armchair facing the fireplace, of which the hearth was bare. His fingers steepled under his chin as he glared ahead of him, teeth grinding within the grip of his clenched jaw. All that could be heard within the whole of the Manor was his ragged breathing, echoing throughout the unadorned, abandoned household.

Tears streaked down his face; he'd long ago stopped bothering to wipe his face dry. His skin was chalky, a dull tainted white with dark rims circling his reddened eyes. His cheekbones protruded sharply, giving his face an unhealthy, undernourished look. This was enhanced by his skeletal fingers, knuckles looking ready to tear through his skin. His platinum blonde hair fell across his face in a dishevelled manner.

Draco's breathing slowed, until he was able to keep it at a controlled, reasonable pace. He shook his head as he dipped it down to rest in his palms, with closed eyes. After several moments, he brought his head back up, and reopened his eyes. In front of him, balanced upon one arm of the chair, now sat an envelope, with his name written upon the front.

With a frown, he picked it up, turning it over to break the seal of wax – embedded with the crest of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat within a compartment on the Hogwarts train, travelling quickly towards their school.

"Funny, isn't it," Ron mused, an arm around Hermione. "This'll probably be the one normal year we'll ever have at Hogwarts. And we're not even technically meant to be there."  
"Funny," Hermione agreed, nestling her head against Ron's shoulder.

"Do you think we'll actually have to work now?" Ron asked. "Because lately I've just assumed that by the end of the year Voldemort would turn up, and we'd miss all our exams and stuff."  
The other two laughed.

* * *

"So then, Hermione: you get your own Tower as Head Girl. Your own dorm," Harry reminded – not that he needed to, for where he spoke of was exactly where the three of them were heading.

"Yep – it'll be weird, with only one other person in the Tower. Especially as it won't be either of you two," Hermione said.

"I suppose they thought Harry had enough of fame and importance," Ron shrugged with a grin. "Although," he added, "I can't see why they didn't give me a try."

Hermione shook her head with a smile, as they came to the door of the Tower. She pulled it open, to reveal a spiral staircase.

"Do you know who _is_ Head Boy then, Hermione," Harry asked as they made their way up.

"No… I've asked people I've seen, but none of them knew either. I guess I'll find out, momentarily."  
"Who d'you think _could_ be Head Boy?" Ron queried. The other two shrugged.

They came to the end of the staircase, and were met with another door. Hermione pushed it open, and the three stepped into a common room –similar to that of the Gryffindor common room, although this one was probably smaller, with less people for it to occupy; of course there was no red and gold colour theme, either.

"Nice," Ron commented under his breath.

There came a sudden, sharp intake of breath. "What are you doing here, Potter?"

The three turned to stare across the room at a doorway to another smaller, spiral staircase, at which Draco Malfoy had just walked down. He was tall, incredibly thin – all sharp features of him accentuated. He wore all black; a formal suit, trousers, polished pointed shoes and a thick, turtleneck jumper. His hair was – in great contrast to his attire – a platinum blonde, now worn in a tousled, haphazard manner.

"Malfoy," Ron muttered.

"Hello, Weaselbee. I'm surprised you managed to get up all those stairs." The blonde haired young adult snapped his grey eyes back to once more meet the green of his rival's. "What do you think you're up to, Potter?" His eyes wandered over to Hermione. "Granger," he acknowledged with a hiss. Draco faltered. "Oh, you're not the Head Girl, are you?"  
Hermione merely glared in reply, whereas Ron spat, "You're Head Boy?!"  
Draco shook out of his momentary shock, to grin smugly. "Jealous, are you, Weaselbee?"  
"Stop calling him that," Hermione cut in.

"Oh, I see you've tamed your girlfriend now," he continued. "I'm impressed you've accomplished that much." Draco turned his head back to Hermione. "As for you, Granger, I'm surprised. You could do so much better."  
"I hope you don't mean to say yourself," Hermione grimaced. Draco merely tilted his head, grin growing wider.

"What are you doing here, _Malfoy_ ," Harry interrupted with gritted teeth.

Draco rolled his eyes. "As Weasley so bluntly explained, I'm Head Boy. I have every right to be here. You two, on the other hand, don't. So why don't you both leave Granger to her room, and get back to where you're supposed to be." He sat down on one of the couple of squashy sofas within the room, picked up a nearby copy of the Daily Prophet and, ignoring the three stood there behind him, began to read.

Ron nudged Hermione. "Come on, let's go." Harry and Ron started to back towards the door.

Hermione frowned. "I can't, Ronald."  
"Well you can't stay in here, can you? Not with that nutter," he grumbled.

"Ron, they'll have already decided where everyone goes. There wouldn't be any space in the Gryffindor Tower. Besides, all my things are in here. I'm Head Girl; I have to be in here. Don't give me that look, Ronald," she added. Hermione sighed, "It's not like I'm not going to see you two anymore, you dimwits. I'll be fine, I can handle being in the same room as a guy for a few hours a day, if that. Now go: unpack," she said with a wave of her hands, sending them off back down the staircase to the Gryffindor Tower.

"Interesting choice," came the smooth drawl from the sofa as Hermione closed the door behind her friends. "I almost thought you were going to go off with them. I guess you are known for being the one with the brains, of the three."  
"Shut up," Hermione retorted, striding over towards a doorway – similar to the one they'd first found Draco standing beside – leading to a spiral staircase that would take her to her room.

"Calm down, Granger. I was only pointing out what's clearly obvious."  
Hermione huffed inwardly, about to go up the staircase.

"Your room has windows that face the Gryffindor Tower, if that's any consolation," Draco noted. "Thought you'd prefer it, so that you can look over to Potter and your lover Weaselbee. Again, he's really not the one for you, in my opinion." He glanced over from the newspaper he was reading to look at Hermione. "You should at least be with someone who matches your intellect."  
Hermione's cheeks were flushed as she glared at Draco a final time before going up the staircase.

 _The cheek! To insult Ron's intelligence..._ Hermione frowned. _Or had that really been the purpose? Had Malfoy, in fact... just complimented her? It seemed so out of character, and yet… 'You should at least be with someone who matches_ your _intellect'._ Not just that, but he said he'd made sure she was to have the room she was about to walk into – something she'd find out to be good or bad once she was to reach the top of the staircase.

Hermione frowned. _Why had Malfoy been made Head Boy? And what was wrong with him at the moment?_ She couldn't help it, with her observant knack, but she hadn't failed to notice how thin and pale Malfoy now looked. Although, it may have just been the lighting of the room. But, his tone of voice didn't seem as sharp towards the three of them as it used to, lacking the normal lacing of hate that he had for them. Maybe that had lessened, from after everything that had happened. Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. Well, she had a whole year ahead being stuck with him to find out.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hermione!"  
The next morning, Hermione made her way to the Great Hall to eat breakfast with Harry and Ron, who now called her over, indicating where they were seated along the Gryffindor table. She smiled and took a seat next to Ron, nodding to Harry, who sat on the opposite side.

"Did you two unpack," she started brightly, beginning to help herself to the food along the table. Harry and Ron shared a guilty look, before hurriedly nodding at her. She grinned, "I'll help you both later tonight with it," she assured, seeing evident relief on both their faces. Hermione turned in her seat to glance over towards the Slytherin table on the other side of the Hall.

"Looking for your Head Boy buddy," Ron scoffed with a questioning raise of his eyebrows.

"I'm looking for Malfoy, yes," she replied, scanning the table, to find the blonde haired Head Boy to be nowhere in sight.

"Are you alright," Harry asked, causing Hermione to turn back around to face him. "With him being in the same Tower?"  
Hermione nodded. "Yes, yeah – of course. He's no problem. Although, last night made me think…"

"Think? Think what," Ron exclaimed.

"Did either of you actually _look_ at Malfoy?" Harry and Ron both frowned, instead of responding. Hermione sighed. "Clearly not." She paused to collect her thoughts together. "Oh, and he was acting surprisingly… I wouldn't say nice, but… he remarked – in I suppose, a positive attitude – on my intelligence, and made sure I had the room with a window facing the Gryffindor Tower, of which the room itself is, _incredible_. That's not like Malfoy, is it?"  
"Well, it's pretty obvious that you're clever Hermione, anyone would be an idiot to think otherwise," Harry input. "Besides, he may not have even wanted that room."  
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Why would a Slytherin want to have to see a Gryffindor inhabited Tower every day? Especially him, of all people."

"I suppose so," Hermione mused, not completely convinced.

* * *

The three strode into their first class: Potions. Professor Slughorn had remained at Hogwarts as a teacher, and so it was he who greeted them as they walked in. Hermione glanced around at the other students who were taking the class. Malfoy stood amongst them, slightly hidden and apart from the others.

"Harry!" Slughorn exclaimed brightly, going over to shake Harry's hand enthusiastically. "Oh, and Wallaby, good to see you again." Hermione bit back a smile, and couldn't help but notice it somewhat lifted Malfoy's apparent dull mood. "Hermione, lovely to see you as well," the Professor continued, at which she spun around at her name, to smile and nod in agreement. She, Ron and Harry then retreated to stand with the rest of the students.

The class listened to the short introduction that was given, after which Slughorn began with the seating plan, carefully listing off names and allowing them to take their seats. Hermione glanced over to where Harry was now placed, then towards Ron, where he sat.

"Hermione," Slughorn beamed. "Well, I have taken the liberty of – as you are Head Girl – to be sat with the Head Boy. I thought it might make things easier for the two of you, as you have more chance to get along. Besides, you two share a tower, so that makes things all the more easier!"

Hermione spread a pained smile over her face, but inwardly groaned. Slughorn directed her to her desk, to then send Malfoy in her direction, after giving him the same explanation. Malfoy yanked the chair from under the desk and sat himself down with a grunt of annoyance. He glared at her before folding his arms and facing away from her.

 _Maybe he wasn't acting so different after all._

* * *

Hermione stifled a yawn as she made her way back to her dormitory in the Head's Tower. She'd had a rather hectic day, with it being the first of the final year, and after dinner had helped Ron and Harry pack their things. She trooped into her common room.

"I was wondering whether or not you'd decide to show your face."  
Hermione looked up in surprise at hearing immediate conversation. "What?"  
Malfoy appeared from the doorway to his room. "Yeah, Granger. Is this how it's going to be every night; staying as far away from me and this Tower by sticking around with scar face and the love bird? Not very mature of you."

She closed the door behind her and strode quickly over to him. "Excuse me? I went to help them with packing, because they're too lazy to do it themselves. I can assure you I'm not trying to dodge around trying to be in here – and I'm confused as to why you're so concerned about the whole matter, Malfoy."

He faltered at the latter comment.

Hermione frowned, adding, "And I didn't see you at dinner. Or lunch – or even breakfast, come to that. At least I'm actually leaving this Tower for necessary things."  
Malfoy laughed, "So you were looking for me, then? When you were in the Great Hall."  
Hermione paused, eyebrows shooting up. "No I was _not_ looking for you, Malfoy." Her temper died down as she looked him over carefully. "Malfoy," she said, in a slightly softer, kinder voice. He clearly heard the difference, as he shot his gaze over to her, his brow furrowing. "Have you… even _eaten_ , at _all_ today?"  
Malfoy sent his gaze straight to the floor, shifting where he stood. He seemed to be contemplating multiple answers, when finally he snapped his head back up and retorted, "Why do you care, Granger?" He sent her a glare before spinning on his heel and storming up to his room.


	4. Chapter 4

**I really do love Ron's character, but I'm afraid Dramione has priorities over Ron making the right choices...**

 **My sincerest apologies to Ronald Bilius Weasley. (I'M SORRY)**

 **Readers, you may continue :)**

* * *

Something was definitely up with Malfoy. Hermione wasn't an idiot. Neither Harry nor Ron seemed to agree – although that may simply be down to the fact that they didn't see him as often, or just didn't care about him. Which, would then suggest… that Hermione cared for Malfoy.

She shuddered to herself. Of course she cared for, his… _wellbeing._ Such a consideration towards others should be distributed amongst everyone, not solely given to those she liked.

 _I mean, I don't_ hate _him. I guess I thought I did – but we were all young and immature at the time, it was merely childish fighting. But I obviously don't_ like _him. At all. He's arrogant and selfish and vain and thinks he's above everyone else. Not only that, but particularly at the moment, he's been difficult to understand._

The days, and thus slow weeks had started to pass as they started their final extra year at Hogwarts, and Hermione couldn't help but notice how oddly Malfoy was acting. Sometimes he would be what she considered as 'his usual self', where he would do nothing but sneer at her, insult her, Harry and Ron, or just completely ignore her. But a couple of odd moments had also passed, where he'd not done any of those things, not even close – and instead just gave the rare, somewhat pleasant comment, or would do subtle things like thank her, or compliment her. Obviously such things like these would be forgotten by him almost instantly – so quickly that Hermione wasn't sure whether to believe they had happened in the first place.

She glanced up from her parchment to see him walk down from his room into their common room.

"What are you looking at, Granger? Haven't you got work to be swotting over?"

Slightly ruffled, she put down her quill and shifted to face him properly. "Haven't you?" she retorted.

He grimaced. "Shut up," he muttered.

Malfoy went to leave the common room, when Hermione pointed out, "You still haven't been coming down to the Great Hall."  
"You're still looking for me, all three times a day? Don't you have your Weasel to be looking at," he sniggered coldly.

Hermione's cheeks flushed. "I'm trying to look out for you Malfoy, as a fellow student, and as Head Girl of the school – of which, do I need to remind you are Head Boy of also."  
"Well, maybe I don't want you to look out for me," he replied bitterly. "Anyway, aren't you usually hanging around in the Gryffindor Tower around this time?"  
"Why does that concern you?"  
Malfoy shrugged. "I'm merely surprised, Granger, that – unlike per usual – you are spending your evening cooped up in a Tower with only me as the nearest person to talk to. If that," he finished, as he continued to walk over to the door to leave.

Hermione frowned. "Where are you going?"  
"None of your business," he replied, quickly pulling the door open and disappearing down the staircase, letting the door slam shut of its own accord.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She returned to looking down at the parchment on her lap. With a defeated sigh, she picked up her quill.

* * *

Draco dashed down the spiral staircase, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He hated having to be head of the school alongside Granger. He hated this school. He hated most people who attended it. He hated his parents, who after the war – managing to escape the potential ordeal of Azkaban – had abandoned him. He hated Voldemort, for having ruined and twisted the past few years of life. He couldn't sleep properly, and the nightmares put him off eating. He couldn't concentrate in lessons at all, with so much that he needed to catch up on.

He wasn't sure exactly where he was going. Perhaps a little fresh air might ease the strain on his mind, and hopefully subdue the worst possible nightmares for tonight. He reached the end of the staircase, throwing the door open and letting it swing on its hinges before it shut after he passed through. Draco went swiftly along corridors, but with his mind cramped with so many thoughts, he lost where he was. He decided after a while that it would be best to head back – even if Granger was waiting to resume arguing with him.

Draco was about to stride down the following corridor, when he heard voices. He quickly stopped himself from going around the corner, and instead pressed himself against it, peering carefully around the edge to see who he'd almost stumbled across.

Ginger hair. Freckles. Lanky.

It was the Weasel.

Stood in the corridors, alone save for a girl, with dark brown hair. Granger, Draco assumed. After all, from what he could see the two were holding hands and giggling. Draco rolled his eyes – to then frown. He'd only just spoken with Granger. She had been preoccupied with studying, he recalled with a grimace. But it hadn't looked as though she had plans to leave the Tower. Then again, if it was for relationship reasons – and such being with the Weasel – maybe she simply didn't want to tell Malfoy about it. It wasn't as though she had reason to.

Even so, Malfoy risked another glance towards the couple around the corner. The girl had brown hair, that was true… but wasn't Granger. In fact, now that he inspected closer, it looked like Lavender Brown.

 _Odd._

Malfoy was about to continue past the two of them and freak them out – as they didn't particularly look like they wanted to be seen – when he suddenly saw them… _kissing_.

Draco frowned. _What was going on?  
_ They were definitely snogging each other, rather passionately. Draco quickly dragged his eyes away, his mind forever scarred. That was something he really didn't want to see.

Last time he knew, Draco was certain Weaselbee was _Granger's_ current boyfriend. He was pretty sure he'd have heard otherwise.

So what was the useless, bumbling idiot doing now? He had a perfectly good girlfriend, and here he was putting his tongue down some other girl's throat.

Draco recoiled. Had he just defended Granger? Had he just described her as a 'perfectly good girlfriend'? He pushed himself away from the corner, but rather than intrude on the two lovers, he much preferred the idea to taking a different route.

Draco walked onwards sometime later, taking a corridor of which the windows were large, arched, and lacking in glass. The air running through them was somewhat pleasantly warm, yet he only felt an uncomforting chill from it.

Now at a safe distance from Weasley, he shook off his disgust. _Why do I have to suffer with that oaf for another year?_

Draco didn't think he would have been allowed to return to Hogwarts this year, after everything that had happened. Whilst he may have resented the part he was forced to play in the war, he had still been a death eater. Surely that accounted for something? He had aided the wrong side, helped the wrong people in killing innocent lives. Not that anyone would believe he had this opinion. They would simply assume he enjoyed following the footsteps of his father, enjoyed the thought of power over others… His father was the one who slowly became delusional at the thought of the Malfoy name being looked down at in disgrace, who put Draco, his son, towards Voldemort as a 'willing' volunteer. As for power; Draco had been shunned by practically everyone, pushed to do little at all yet forced to attend pointless meetings at ridiculous times, made to listen to the number of deaths they had 'achieved' in causing… was that _really_ power?

So of course, when the letter from Hogwarts arrived at Malfoy Manor describing of his new role as Head Boy, he had at the very least, been surprised. At first he resented it – even contemplated tossing it into the flames; though he soon remembered the fire to be unlit. But, what else was he going to do? Draco had practically locked himself within the Manor throughout the summer. He wasn't a fool; he felt guilty of his actions the past couple of years. It had been going so well for him, for it to plummet steadily downhill by stupid mistakes. Listening to his father. Getting roped up into things he didn't understand.

His summer had been dark. An arduous, constant, cycle of watching the hours of the day pass, sat alone in a gargantuan silence, dreading the hours of the night that would always, inevitably be stolen by the nightmares.

Draco's hands tightened to fists as he slowed his walk through the corridor. His eyes fell to his left arm; a habit from what had happened through the summer, what he had brought himself to do. He tore his gaze away, glanced nonchalantly at the outdoor grounds through the windows, and restarted his return walk.

* * *

Draco found himself back in the Tower, within the warm, cosy common room. He immediately caught sight of Granger – to find, to his relief, that she had clearly spent so much time on her work that she'd fallen asleep on the sofa. Draco chewed his lip as he looked her over.

The memory of Weasley and the girl resurfaced.

Was he… _sympathising_ , for Granger? He shook his head in denial to rid himself of such thoughts. It made no difference to him what happened between her and the Weasel. In fact, he didn't care at all. With a final assertive nod, he spared Granger one more glance before heading off to his room.

* * *

Hermione woke up to hear a subdued, almost inaudible sound. She frowned, sitting up – groaning as she realised she'd fallen asleep on the sofa, with her work spread around her. Rubbing her eyes, she found a more comfortable position, to listen closer to the sound. It was a ragged sound; uncontrolled. Her brow furrowed. She stood up, back aching, and set about organising her work, leaving it in a neat pile to file away later. She then stopped again, to try and decipher the sound.

It was coming from Malfoy's room.

Hermione couldn't be certain, but the closer she was to the staircase that led to his room, the more defined the sound became.

Hermione paused, glancing around the room as if worried someone would catch her unawares. She edged closer to the staircase, and warily began to make her ascent.

She halted outside Malfoy's door, but kept out a keen ear for the sound. It was definitely coming from his room. Now that she was within a closer range, Hermione realised that the sound was… human made. Which meant it could only be Malfoy. Not only that, but the sound was… grieved. In pain. Saddened and broken. She hadn't ever considered that such emotions could come from someone like Draco Malfoy.

He was crying.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry this one's a little short; the next chapter should be a whole lot longer :)**

 **Also, apologies if Draco is a little out of character - as the story goes on there is more of the good old Draco Malfoy, [WOOT], but obviously when he initially gets used to Hermione's presence he can't really be completely in character 0_0**

* * *

Hermione was first to wake up that morning, and make her way into the common room. She had gotten herself prepared upstairs, and she was ready to go down to the Great Hall. But the work she'd left on the sofa was bugging her, so she decided to at least put it away before going off to breakfast. Much to her surprise, as she went about her task, she heard slow footsteps descending the nearby staircase. She looked up.

"Malfoy," she exclaimed, as he appeared at the doorway to his staircase. She frowned; his face was paler than usual, and his eyes darker around the edges, and slightly red. His clothing was tousled, with no thought in their presentation whatsoever. Even his hair seemed a duller blonde than normal. "You look awful," she remarked honestly, dropping what she held onto the sofa to go over to him.

The corner of his mouth tweaked slightly.

"So do you, Granger," he replied quietly, his voice tired and dried out.

Hermione felt uncomfortable being so nice towards him, but at the same time didn't like seeing him in such a state. "Are… are you, _alright_ , Malfoy?"  
He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine."  
"Are you sure? I… I – can take you down to Madam Pomfrey if you want…"

"I'm fine," he repeated with a harsher tone, glaring at her. He faltered, rubbing his face with his hands and groaning inwardly. "Sorry," he muttered, much to Hermione's shock. "I'm fine, Granger."

Hermione nodded, albeit doubtfully. "Hey, erm… why don't you come down and have some breakfast, in the Great Hall."  
Malfoy shook his head. "No food…" he murmured.

Hermione bit her lip. "You can't be serious. I can't remember the last time you ate! You need food." She paused. "This is the exact opposite to dealing with Ron."  
Malfoy grimaced. "I'm only taking that as a compliment."

She glared at him, before sighing. "Fine." She softened, "Just please; eat something."

Malfoy rose a weary eyebrow. "Granger, it sounds to me as though you're worried about my current welfare. This is certainly a, _different_ , experience."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but oddly couldn't find a reason to deny his suggestions. She brushed it aside and led him over to a sofa, instructing him to sit down.

"You really don't want to go down to the Great Hall, do you," she questioned.

"Not if you're going to be supervising me, or getting me to eat anything. Besides, it'll be full of tons of small, loud kids. No thanks."  
Hermione rose an eyebrow.

* * *

"Hermione," Harry smiled as he saw her steaming through the Great Hall. She reached to where he and Ron sat, and began taking platefuls of food.

"Hey, what're you doin'," Ron burst through a mouthful of breakfast.

"Taking some food to eat upstairs," she replied, recoiling slightly as her boyfriend sprayed food in all directions. "Please don't talk yet, Ronald."

"Is Malfoy up there," Harry asked, curious.

Hermione concentrated on the plates she held rather than meet his eye. "Yes."  
"You're having breakfast with Malfoy?!" Ron spat.

Hermione gave him a minor disgusted glare, before softening her gaze. "Yes, it's a long story." She saw the girl sat close beside Ron. "Oh… hi, Lavender."  
The girl beamed brightly. "Hello, Hermione."

Ron unconsciously found his arm around Lavender's. "I saw her a few days ago," he explained to Hermione, whose smile waned slightly. "Got to catch up with each other. It's been a while, you know," he shrugged. Lavender giggled.

Hermione nodded slowly, before glancing at Harry. "I'll probably see you later," she muttered, before making her way back out of the Great Hall.


	6. Chapter 6

**This one's a little longer for you lovely people**

 **Draco's not exactly correct to character again, but like I said before, he will grow accustomed to it and return to his 'usual self' as the story develops. Or at least, as much into character as he can whilst liking Hermione Granger.**

 **Enjoy :D**

* * *

Hermione prised the door open – with great difficulty, considering what she carried with her – and stumbled in. She straightened up and strode over to the sofa, which was currently overtaken by the tall, lanky form of Draco Malfoy, who looked very much worse for wear. She placed the plates on the nearby wooden table, then tapped him. "Malfoy," she whispered. He groaned, trying to curl up. Hermione rolled her eyes. " _Malfoy_ ," she repeated a little louder. He blinked his eyes open, and only then did Hermione notice tears had welled up in his eyes – although hadn't yet paved down his face. She immediately softened her tone.

"I'm not going to eat," he grumbled firmly as he sat up.

"Yes you are," she retorted.

"Why should I listen to you, Granger?"

"Because I'm the only one bothering to help you out." Hermione got up and sat beside him on the sofa, much to Malfoy's grunt of disapproval.

"I don't want your help," he shot bluntly. "Don't you have lessons to go and be top of the class at?"

Hermione gritted her teeth. "You know what, if you're just going to act like a spoilt brat, then maybe I won't help you."

"Fine," he snapped. "See if I care."

Hermione got to her feet, collected her work that she'd left nearby and without another word left the common room. Draco watched her leave.

As the door closed behind her, he groaned. _Granger's constantly getting in the way. Maybe she deserves what the Weasel's doing, going behind her back. The both of them do._

But… somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt something against these thoughts. Perhaps it was merely the barrage of nightmares that had messed with his head.

Draco slumped into lying across the sofa, head resting on the armrest, as though it were a pillow. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, knowing he would inevitably slip back into those nightmares.

* * *

Hermione spent most of her morning with Harry. From what Ron had briefly explained, he still needed time to 'catch up' with Lavender. Hermione found it odd, but dismissed it. Now there was a break from classes, she needed to return to her Tower to collect other books, and deposit ones she no longer required that day. Of course that meant having to see the likes of Draco Malfoy.

She made her way reluctantly up the staircase, eventually finding herself at the top. She pushed open the door, planning to head straight to her room and stride back out.

Putting her books down, Hermione caught sight of Malfoy still on the sofa. Typical. Yet, he was awake, and seemed to have only just registered her presence. He stood up slowly, and as Hermione turned to face him she noticed him shaking. Tears were waiting to spill from his dark, shadowed eyes. She couldn't quite decipher what Malfoy was thinking as he saw her – but in only a couple of strides he now stood directly opposite her. Before she knew quite what was going on, Malfoy wrapped his arms around her. He was still shaking, and she could feel him sobbing into her shoulder.

Hermione had no idea what to do.

"I'm sorry… Hermione…"

She frowned. What was he apologising for?

 _Had he just called her by her first name?_

"Shhh… hey, it's okay…" She decided to assure him; comfort him. That was the most logical thing to do, given the situation.

"I'm sorry, I'm… I'm so, so sorry…"

"You don't, need to apologise to me, Malfoy," Hermione encouraged, half hoping that he would explain why he did.

Instead he just continued to stand there, his arms around her, tears streaming down his face.

* * *

Draco could still hear them.

The screams.

His nightmares used to vary, in earlier days. Now it usually focused on one. Sat in his house, with his parents stood away from him as he had no choice but to watch Hermione being questioned by Bellatrix. Ever since that day, her screams had haunted him. He'd wanted to do something, drag her away from the danger – even if at the time he didn't really like her. But to have to stand there and watch as blood was drawn from her arm and spilt across the floor of his house. To read the name he had taunted her with so long ago, now written in the warm ink of a deep red. That nightmare terrified him the most.

So after having drifted into said nightmare, feeling alone, hollow and angry, he'd awoken with grief and fear. He couldn't wash the sight from his eyes. Hermione had then walked in, a stern look on her face – he couldn't help but hug her. It was so uncharacteristic of him, but it was the thing he really needed right now. It wasn't that he liked her… of course, he _didn't_ like her. But… for now, he could tolerate her.

He was sat back on the sofa, Hermione sat next to him. Hermione. It was an interesting name. From here on in, he'd only said it once. He wasn't sure why hadn't tried to before.

Hermione.

"Explain whatever you want, Malfoy," she said kindly. He liked that. She didn't ask him, 'Are you alright?' She knew what his response would be to that, and she knew that it wouldn't be the answer she was looking for. She was... clever.

"I'm not… exactly, sure where, to start," he admitted. Draco wasn't used to this. Talking to her like a friend. Being able to talk about this at all, in fact.

"That's okay. You don't have to."

Draco faltered for a moment. "Don't we have lessons we're supposed to be in?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, you're clearly not well enough for them yet," she decided. "And I… erm, am going to look after you."

Draco rose an eyebrow. "Skipping classes to look after me? What has the world come to? And the Head Girl, of all people."

"Says the Head Boy," she retorted.

"I'm Draco Malfoy. I can be Head Boy and ditch classes." He smiled just as Hermione did. His eyes went down to meet the floor. "Don't quite know how I got Head Boy, really. I suppose I expected Potter to get it. Wasn't really thinking I had a chance. Not after…" he subconsciously rubbed at his left forearm with his right hand, both of them knowing what lay underneath the sleeve. "I didn't want to do it. _Any_ of it. Got forced into it: that's mainly my father's fault. He said he was proud to be a death eater, told me I should be proud as well, of such an 'honour'. And yet he was bloody terrified of… well…"

"Voldemort," Hermione finished, nodding.

"I bet your parents were chuffed though. Their own daughter, saving the world from evil? Muggles like that kind of thing, right?"

Hermione rose an eyebrow, but sighed. "Honestly… no. I, erased myself from their memories. It was to keep them safe. I didn't think we'd ever go back to having normal lives, with the war going on."

"You erased your parent's _memories of you_? So, they don't even know you exist?"

She shook her head. "After the war, one of the first things I did was get rid of the enchantment. But they no longer completely trust me anymore."

"I'm not surprised," Draco commented. He caught Hermione's glare. "Sorry."

"Why were you apologising earlier," Hermione brought back up. He fidgeted uncomfortably where he sat. "Come on, Draco, tell me."

"You probably remember the time in the war, when you paid a visit to my house. The Malfoy Manor," he laughed bitterly. He glanced at Hermione's upper left arm. "I regret what happened that day. I should've done something, should've got in the way – or lied to Bellatrix; lied to my parents."

"Well," Hermione considered, "Yeah. You should've done. But, also… No. By stepping in, things may have worked out completely differently. That or you could've put yourself in danger. Although, I'm glad you feel that way about it, rather than nothing at all."

Draco nodded understandably at the verdict. "I had to watch," he said quietly. "That was the hardest part. Am I being too honest for my own good here if I said I hated to see you in pain?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "Honesty isn't always a bad thing," she decided.

"I suppose it would've been more bearable, had it have been the Weasel instead."

"Ah," Hermione gave a smile, but laced in it was warning. "Stepping into dangerous territory."

"Right," he nodded. "Boyfriend." He caught Hermione's eye as he declared, "I still stand by what I said before." He had that feeling again, of sympathy, but this time it was stronger. Perhaps because, since last time, Draco admitted that they seemed to have formed a friendship, somewhat. How, he wasn't sure. But alongside the sympathy, he now also felt guilt. He knew something about Weaselbee that Hermione didn't, which made him feel it his duty to tell her – yet he didn't want to be the one to blow it to her.

"You think I deserve better?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah."

Draco had been grateful for Hermione wanting him to talk about things. It wasn't something he was used to - after all, who was liable to willingly want to talk to him, nowadays? But here he had, albeit warily, been free to speak of things that had been troubling him ever since the war.

Hermione noticed as the day passed, that Draco had gradually become less closed up, and even ended up looking a little healthier than he had been. Although, that could have been down to making sure he at least ate something.

He'd fallen asleep on the sofa now, and Hermione too felt incredibly tired. But obviously, it would be wrong to stay in here to sleep, in the common room. She caught sight of a blanket and pulled it over Draco, before with a sigh left to her room.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco woke up with a yawn. He'd slept surprisingly well – even considering he found he'd slept on the sofa. He sat up, noticing the blanket over him.

Hermione.

Had he befriended her, in but the time of a single day? _What was wrong with him?_

Yes, he'd always had some sort of hidden respect for her, her intelligence being the main thing he'd admired; even if she was muggle born. But she had chosen to be friends with Potter and the Weasel. Surely, even if he – could he even be considering this? – wanted, to befriend Hermione: surely it wouldn't be allowed. Those two bumbling idiots would be on him in an instant, whether or not he'd say he had good intentions. They probably wouldn't believe him. Why would a Slytherin want to make friends with a Gryffindor?

He clenched his jaw in annoyance. Hermione would most likely be appalled at the thought of him liking her company. She clearly didn't like him – what happened yesterday was simply her wanting to do her job as Head Girl… or something honourable like that.

Draco realised he would have to make things as they were before. His brief happiness drained quickly, returning to the familiar bleak, hollow emptiness. He pushed himself up off the sofa, and silently went to his room to tidy himself up before making his way to the Great Hall, clicking the door quietly shut behind him.

When Hermione awoke and sorted herself out for the day ahead, she found Draco wasn't anywhere in the common room. Either he'd retreated to his room – or perhaps gone down to the Great Hall. Hermione smiled. Maybe he was actually listening to her.

Her thoughts went to that of the day before. Had she really abandoned education to stay in a room, alone with Draco, talking? It hardly seemed believable. But he had needed someone to talk to; that had been obvious.

What struck her particularly was how nice Draco actually was. How he was merely a guy who'd been tormented his whole life by so many people, that he followed what he was told to do, in fear. Hermione felt saddened by this. All these years they'd hated him, without realising he was fighting his own war.

Head held a little higher, she smiled as she made her way down to the Hall.

* * *

Hermione arrived in time for breakfast, seeing Harry, Ron – and Lavender – at the Gryffindor table. Her eyes turned to search on the opposite side of the Hall. She found Draco, and smiled in relief. He caught her looking, and merely raised an eyebrow, no smile in return. Hermione found that odd, but didn't pester on as Harry grabbed her attention.

"Hermione," he called sharply. She spun around to face him. "Where were you yesterday?"

Hermione bit her lip. She glanced back towards Draco, who she noted was sat alone, and concentrated on looking down at his food. Not that he seemed keen to eat it.

"Hermione!"

"Sorry, what," she mumbled. "What did you say?"

Harry frowned. "Were you looking for Malfoy?" She caught the hidden disgust in his voice.

Hermione hesitated. Finally she decided, "He hasn't been down to the Great Hall, when he should be, because he's Head Boy. I complained to him yesterday about it. Clearly he actually listened."

"And this complaint… took you _all_ of yesterday? No one knew where you were, Hermione. You skipped all of your classes – you never do that without a good reason."

"Hermione," Ron beamed suddenly, as if only having just noticed her.

"A little of a late response to my arrival, Ronald," she tutted.

"Sorry, I was…" he glanced warily next to him – where Lavender happened to be sat – before turning his gaze to his plate. "Eating…"

"You were eating? Well, I suppose that's nothing unusual." He frowned at her, but she then ruffled his hair with her hand and hugged him. "I haven't seen you in ages."

"It's only been a day, Hermione."

She broke away from the hug, which he oddly didn't seem to be returning. "It feels like longer." Hermione found her gaze going back to Draco as she said this. He had barely touched the food offered to him. His eyes were still boring into the table, his blonde hair falling across his face.

"I'll be back in a moment," she explained hurriedly to the others, before starting to make her way over to the other side of the Hall.

"Hermione?!"

She ignored them, knowing they'd most likely watch to see where she was going. Or Harry, at least. Ron… had seemed, occupied.

She got to the Slytherin table – much to the surprise of most sat at it. Draco seemingly hadn't noticed her come over. She strode over to him, and took a seat beside him.

"Draco," she began, tapping the table just by where his hand was.

"Granger," he growled. He slowly turned to face her. "What are you doing here?"

Albeit slightly miffed, she continued. "I was wondering, if, you were alright – after yesterday."

He glared at her. "I'm here, aren't I?" He shook his head, "I'm fine. Now go and run along to Weaselbee and Potter."

Hermione frowned, but without another word did as he said. He glanced at her as she left, watching her return to the Gryffindor table. Draco pushed away the plate of food in front of him, hands shaking. The Great Hall started to swim in front of him. He closed his eyes, putting his head in his hands. _What was wrong with him?_


	8. Chapter 8

**I thought I'd be nice and give another chapter to you guys today :)**

 **It's short, but resolves previous matters and begins the more interesting path that this story will hopefully take...**

* * *

Hermione sat in the common room, alone by the fire. Weeks has slowly crawled by, and whilst she was enjoying having lessons, she didn't feel… happy. Malfoy was back to his usual self, as if that afternoon they'd shared had never happened. Insulting her, Harry and Ron whenever he had the chance to. Ignoring them for the rest of the time.

And Ron… he'd been unusually distant. She didn't feel as if he was her boyfriend anymore. Although, maybe it was down to the fact they couldn't really see each other as much as she liked to.

As for Harry… well, he was just Harry. But at least it meant she didn't have to worry about him too.

The door to the common room creaked open. Hermione turned, already knowing who it was.

"Oh, _you're_ here, Granger," Malfoy sneered.

Hermione glared at him. He went to go straight to his room, but Hermione got up from the sofa and stepped in front of him.

She studied him for a moment. His skin was pale, almost unhealthily waxy. Under his dulled grey eyes were rimmed dark shadows. His bones at his collar and cheeks were showing through, making him eerily skeletal. Malfoy clearly wasn't quite right.

"Malfoy, I want to talk."

"Well then, talk away; I won't be listening. Why don't you just go and have a chat with those idiots you call your friends?"

"I want to talk, to _you_ ," she added, a stern tone to her voice.

"That certainly sounds unwise," he replied coolly. "And I thought you were the clever one."

"Malfoy, stop it," she barked, reducing him to momentary silence. Hermione sighed. "I don't understand. What happened, to Draco?"

He rose an eyebrow. "I'm right here."

"No," she shook her head, "You're Malfoy. You're spiteful, and rude, and arrogant, and big headed."

"Is this how you try to win every argument, Granger? Compliment the opposition?"

"That afternoon, when you opened up – that wasn't Malfoy. That, was Draco. I've had enough of sharing a Tower with Malfoy, but I liked Draco."

He laughed, but inside he was confused. Did Hermione just say she liked him? He'd thought _he_ would be the one who'd suffer from a rejection at the suggestion of a friendship with her, and yet, here the places had been swapped. Had he really wasted weeks trying to keep her away from him, not taking the time to notice she wasn't replicating the act?

"You… liked, Draco," he muttered hoarsely, losing the pretence he'd put up. Only Hermione had seen past it, and only once before – on that afternoon those weeks ago. It was then that she'd seen his natural character. Not the one that he'd grown up having to be like. Not one based on family traditions. Not one based on blood, or belief. It had just been him at that moment, and as he now felt his act slip away, he suddenly felt once more exposed to show himself. To show 'Draco', as Hermione had put it.

"Yes, I liked Draco," she nodded.

"But… he was, pathetic. No one knows Draco. They only know Malfoy."

Hermione gave a small smile. "You don't have to be someone people expect you to be, Draco. You can be yourself, if you want."

Draco faltered. "What about Potter and the Weasel? They're not going to like you being friends with the likes of me, are they? That's why I didn't…" his sentence trailed away.

Hermione rose a questioning eyebrow. "That's why you didn't, what?"

Draco turned his gaze to the floor. "I… I liked that afternoon, with you, Granger." He couldn't believe he was admitting this – and to her, of all people. It was as if something had stolen his voice and was pouring out everything he didn't feel confident to say. "After the war, I haven't really had anyone, to talk to… except you. Because you actually listened to what I had to say. I needed that afternoon. I felt good the morning after. No nightmares," he explained quietly. "But I didn't think you'd actually want to like me." He grew sheepish, running a hand through his hair as he added, "I thought that afternoon had just been because, you were Head Girl… or something."

Hermione blinked. "You… idiot, Draco," she muttered with a small laugh. His eyes widened at her; she smiled. "I sat with you because you looked like you needed someone. You looked really, really bad. As bad as you do now."

"Thanks," he replied.

"You haven't been eating properly again, have you," she sighed.

He hesitated, his eyes returning to the floor. "Or sleeping," he admitted finally, his voice now but a small whisper.

" _Draco_!"

"I couldn't. I felt bad, because, I wanted to like you but felt like it was wrong."

Hermione paused. "You're in this state, because of _me_?"

Draco shuddered at the blunt reality. "No," he mumbled, clearly guilty.

Before Hermione knew what she was doing, she found her arms slowly wrapping around him. Her head rested against his chest, with him being tall as he was skinny.

They stood with only the crackle of the fireplace daring to make a sound.

Draco rested his head against her shoulder – he may be tall, but so was she. "Are you angry at me, Granger," he muttered quietly.

"Yes," came the whisper of a reply. Draco tensed up, but Hermione continued, "But I'm also sad. I should've talked to you about this as soon as I'd gotten the chance."

"You think _you're_ guilty of my wrongdoing?"

"I'll take that as admittance, but… partly; yes." She sighed. "It was mostly your fault though."

"Don't ruin it, Granger."

"I can't promise anything."


	9. Chapter 9

**New chapter...**

 **Reviews are welcome - always nice to know what people think ;D**

* * *

Hermione set off the next morning down the stairs from her room to the common room – to find Draco stood there, waiting.

"Oh; hi, Draco," she blurted in surprise.

"Hermione," he acknowledged. It was a change to be able to hear him say her first name. He shifted where he stood. "I thought, I could walk down with you. To the Great Hall."

She blinked. It was as if he'd transformed overnight. "I suppose so. What makes you so inclined to want to do so?"

"Because you don't have anyone to walk there with." He hesitated, "And… because, I don't really want to be going down there alone either."

"Okay then," Hermione nodded, to see Draco smile. A natural, honest smile, on the face of Draco Malfoy. _Was she dreaming?_

Draco opened the door for her and gestured for her to descend down the staircase. Hermione obliged, waiting for him to close the door and follow after her.

"Hermione," he started. "Potter and the Weasel probably won't like it if I suddenly appear too friendly, I should think. Should I act as 'Malfoy' whilst around the school still, and take it down gradually? Might make it easier for their brains to process."

Hermione shot him a look, but smiled. "You can go about it however you like. But you'll have to let me know, because if you start to continuously throw insults at me, I'm going to get suspicious."

Draco laughed. "Whatever you say, Granger."

They reached the end of the staircase, and left the Tower to head towards the Great Hall.

"You don't have anyone to sit with, do you," Hermione noted, glancing at him.

"What? Of course I do, Granger." He paused a moment, to then catch her poised eyebrow. "Fine," he grumbled. "No, I don't. Happy?"

"Neither here nor there," she replied. "You can sit with me, if you really must."

"Really? That could get a little boring," he joked. "Besides, wouldn't your Gryffindor pals find that somewhat odd?"

"To be honest, they are free to think what they like. I really don't mind. But if it makes you feel any better, we could always say that we're under new regulations to sit together as Head Boy and Girl. That was Slughorn's intention, after all."

Draco blinked, eyeing her with a grin. "You know, I quite like you, Granger," he confessed.

He watched her grin. "You have surprisingly good tastes."

* * *

The two strode together into the Great Hall. Already there were shocked glances from particularly the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables. Hermione went to sit with Ron and Harry, whilst Draco slipped away to his own table, leaving Hermione surprised to feel disappointed.

She took a place opposite Harry, to find Ron wasn't sat with him. "Where's Ron?"

Harry sighed. "Helping Lavender with homework."

"What?"

"I know," he agreed. "I was surprised too."

"But Ron never does his homework." Hermione paused. "I guess he's decided to actually concentrate this year."

Harry looked her over. "Where's Hermione," he asked, quietly.

She stared at him. " _What?!_ "

He leaned over across the table. "You've been acting slightly, _different_ , recently. Is everything alright, Hermione?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Harry."

"You just strode in alongside Malfoy. That doesn't suggest fine. Or even sane."

Hermione laughed, but at the mention of his name, turned to glance towards the Slytherin table. Frowning when she couldn't find him, her eyes went across the Hall to finally see him: in conversation with Professor McGonagall, no less. He was pointing in direction of the Gryffindor table – in the direction of Hermione.

"What's he doing," Harry muttered next to her, clearly watching the same thing. Hermione shrugged; she honestly wasn't quite sure herself. She couldn't decipher either one of their expressions, with them being so far away. The odd conversation seemed to end, and Draco began to walk away. But rather than return to the Slytherin table, he was making his way over to the Gryffindor table. To _her_.

As he got closer, Hermione noted the annoyed grimace that plastered Draco's face. Whether or not it was actually how he felt, she was yet to know. He sat himself down beside Hermione.

"What are you doing, _Malfoy_ ," Harry scowled.

"Good morning to you too, Potter," Draco retorted coldly. He glanced at Hermione, before returning to glare at Harry. "It's Professor McGonagall's idea. Do you really think I'd want to sit over here, surrounded by big heads like you?"

Harry looked as though he'd been hit with a hex. " _Professor McGonagall's_ idea?"

Hermione looked over Draco, studying him carefully. She quickly understood what Draco was doing. "What exactly, did Professor McGonagall propose, _Malfoy_ ," she queried, doing her best to look as though she was displeased at his mere presence.

Draco looked to her, and the two shared a knowing glance. "Apparently she'd prefer it if the Head Boy and Girl got on better terms with one another," he explained. "If you ask me, it would be a whole lot easier if she just picked different people."

"So, you mean to say you have to sit with me, at every meal," Hermione asked, both to keep up the act – but also curious to see whether or not he wanted to do so.

He grimaced. "I have to go through a whole year being constantly around you. I can't believe I thought it a good idea to come back."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have," Harry input.

"Whilst I have to agree with you, people can't change the past. I'm stuck with this. Stuck with Granger. I don't know why you're complaining, Potter. _You_ don't have to sit with me."

Harry glared at his rival, before turning to Hermione.

"She can't be serious," he muttered to Hermione, as Draco began to take a plate. "You can't be forced to sit with him every day. You're already put in the same Tower as him. This is insane."

"I know," she whispered. "But, think about it from her point of view. The war has ended. She wants to keep Hogwarts going. The first thing she'd want to do is restore House unity. Perhaps she's thinking this is the best way to start things off."

"But with _him_ ," he exclaimed. "Of all people?"

Hermione shrugged. She leant a little closer so as to lower her voice. "Malfoy's most likely had a rough time in the war too. He doesn't even have anyone to sit with. Perhaps she thinks that getting him to interact with other people would help."

"Hermione," Harry frowned, "Since when did you care so much about Malfoy?"

She faltered. "I… I, don't," she mumbled meekly. Harry gave her a last wary look, before returning to his breakfast. Hermione glanced towards Draco, just in time to see him bite back a grin.


	10. Chapter 10

This was the first time Hermione had looked forward to a Potions lesson in weeks. For Draco, it was the first time he was looking forward to _anything_ – in God knows how long.

Hermione sat down at her desk, to find Draco already there. She acknowledged him with a small smile. "Hiya Draco."

"Are you impressed," he asked. She rose her eyebrows. "Of this morning."

She held back a grin. "It was… pretty good, I guess."

"Pretty good? I now have everyone believing I was forced to sit with you. It's ingenious!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What exactly did you say to McGonagall?"

He shrugged. "I merely asked if I could sit with you. I mentioned how we were Head Boy and Girl, and that we're different houses, and how we could start the unity between houses – which is, coincidentally, exactly what I overheard you say to Potter."

"Well, what else is there to say," Hermione replied. "Great minds think alike."

"Are you suggesting that my mind matches the intellect of yours, Granger?"

Hermione smiled. She was interrupted in answering by that of Professor Slughorn, who entered the classroom to begin the lesson. In the corner of her eye she could see Draco's smug grin.

...

Ron turned back to Harry after having glanced over towards Hermione and Malfoy. "So, they have to sit together, all the time?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"Blimey. Hermione's in for a hell of a year." He glanced back towards them. "Don't know what Malfoy's playing at though. Look at him, grinning. Who knew he could manage that?"

Harry looked over with Ron, to notice them talking.

"What does he have to talk about my girlfriend with," Ron growled. He made to get up from his seat.

"Ron, I really don't think that's a good idea," Harry decided, yanking him back down.

"Malfoy's talking to my girlfriend!" He shot a glare aimed towards the blonde.

"You know, Ron, I think Hermione's talking with him, too."

"He's corrupting her, that's what," Ron muttered.

"No… I think they're just discussing the lesson. Plus, they're Head Boy and Girl, they need to be able to work together. Maybe McGonagall told them they had to learn to communicate. Somehow," he added with a grimace as he looked towards Malfoy.

"For the sake of sanity, I suppose I should agree with you, Harry," Ron sighed, defeated.

...

Hermione glanced up from her parchment to look over at Draco. He had repeatedly been glancing over in her direction, but sat staring at a blank piece of parchment placed before him on his side of the desk.

"Draco," she muttered. "What are you doing?"

"I'm… thinking, about how I want to write it all down," he said quietly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you wanted help, you should have said."

"Help?" He frowned at her. "I don't need help. I…" He sighed. "How do you manage to come top of the class in everything, after having just played a major role in a war? It baffles me."

"Perhaps it's because I pay more attention in classes. Or maybe it's because I'm a girl – after all, I used to end up writing practically all of Ron's and Harry's homework for them."

"You did their work _as well_?"

She nodded. "I think it's probably a guy thing: having an inability to work."

"You willingly wrote out their assignments, as well as your own, whilst they did nothing?" He glared in direction of Harry and Ron. "And you wonder why I don't like them." He turned back to face her. "Didn't it ever bother you?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes. At first I had said I would sit and help them, but get them to do it themselves. I guess that rule sort of disappeared over time…"

Draco bunched his hands into fists. "If I'm ever near that Weasel again…"

"Draco," Hermione warned.

He glared at her, almost pleading at her to be given permission to stride right over to that idiot and tell him exactly what he thought of him. Hermione's warning in her eyes told him it would be best to back down – for now. He exhaled deeply, leaning back in his chair. "Why would someone do that? Take advantage, of someone's intelligence… especially when they're supposed to be your friend."

Hermione tilted her head warmly at him. "Sometimes I forget you're a Slytherin," she commented.

Draco sat up straighter in his seat, "I'd be happy to remind you, if you let me go talk to him."

"That would never end well," Hermione pointed out, and much as he wanted to deny it, he knew she was right.

He went back to looking at his work, comparing his blank sheet of parchment to the one beside it, riddled in neat black writing. "Granger," he asked, "You don't think, you'd be able to help me… catch up with my classes? After all, you're in all of them so you'll know all there is to know about every single one of them." His eyes flickered back to Harry and Ron at the other side of the classroom as he continued, "I don't mean to say that you do the work for me. But, could you perhaps... well, not teach me as such, but…"

"Of course I can, Draco," Hermione nodded with a smile.

"I suppose it'll be easier anyway, with us sharing a Tower," he pointed out. "But just… don't let _them_ know," Draco requested, nodding towards Harry and Ron. "It could kill me."  
Hermione grinned.

* * *

Draco and Hermione sat together in their common room, each on one end of the sofa, facing towards each other. Hermione's legs were bent to support the book she was reading from, her back leaning against the armrest. Draco mirrored her sitting position, but his own legs (being as long as they were) stretched across the length of the sofa, so that each one of his feet was directly against each side of Hermione's thighs. Not that either of them realised, of course.

Draco watched her as she read to him, explaining only a mere section of the history of Hogwarts. He smiled to himself.

"You're good at reading," he commented, his mouth working faster than his mind.

Hermione glanced up in surprise. She bit back a smile, answering, "You're not so great at listening."

He could tell she was pleased by the compliment, though. "Sorry," he apologised, and let her continue on.


	11. Chapter 11

The weeks were slowly slipping by, the temperature gradually dropping as time passed. Hermione and Draco were sat in their usual places, upon the sofa closest to the fire. Hermione was wrapped up in a thick blanket, of which Draco's feet had also managed to get under.

Hermione was laughing; Draco – trying to show how bored out of his mind he was (and using his lying position along the length of the sofa to his advantage) – tilted his head to face the ceiling, dropped an open book over his face and pretended to start snoring. The book started to slide off his face, and in a panic Draco's hands shot up to try and grab it before it fell. The book flew behind him, and in his attempt to catch it, his feet ruffled the blanket Hermione was in; much to her surprise. His feet, being as close as they were to her, tapped at her sides, his legs bending as he sat up quickly. The book made a satisfying clunk as it hit the floor. Draco looked incredibly flustered; Hermione couldn't stop laughing at his expression.

They both fell immediately silent when there came footsteps on the stone staircase that led up to the common room. The two stared at each other.

Draco pointed to her. _Is that someone for you?  
_  
Hermione shrugged. _I don't know._

Draco glanced to judge how far away his room was – and whether he could escape there if he were quick enough – when the footsteps stopped and there now came knocking. As a desperate last resort, he suddenly rolled off of the sofa, whilst Hermione threw the blanket off from her and onto the sofa. She got to her feet as she caught Draco crawling to hide under the sofa.

"Who is it," Hermione asked, knowing – like Draco too assumed – that the visitor would most likely be for her. She glanced once more towards Draco, when the door creaked open.

"Harry," the young man explained with a quick smile as he stepped in.

"Oh: Harry," Hermione acknowledged with a nod. "What, are you doing here?"

"Erm, my jumper…?"

"Oh," she repeated, going over to the cloak stand. Back when they had packed at Grimmauld Place, Hermione had accidentally mixed a jumper of his within her things – to have discovered it as she'd unpacked. She told him she'd give it to him once the colder months arrived, but it had evidently slipped her mind. She pulled it off from the stand and handed it over to him quickly.

"Thanks," he said, pulling it on. He glanced about the room. "Where's Malfoy?"

"Ah… in, his room," she decided.

"Right. Are you okay up here by yourself, Hermione?"

Under the sofa, Draco gritted his teeth. _She's not alone, she's with me – and she was perfectly fine until you walked in._ Little did he know a similar thought was crossing Hermione's mind.

"Oh, I'm fine," she assured Harry, "I'm just helping – I'm _working_ ," she corrected quickly. "I'm, just working. Extra revision, you know."

Harry nodded. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione."

"Bye Harry," she replied, waiting for him to close the door. Once he did, she waited a couple of seconds for his footsteps to die away, before dashing quickly over to the sofa, of which Draco was pulling himself out from. His blonde hair sprung haphazardly across his face as he sat on the floor.

"That was close," he muttered.

His eyes caught hers, and set her off into laughter, which he quickly joined.


	12. Chapter 12

**Now it gets interesting...**

 **I hope you guys like this chapter :)**

* * *

Later that week, one evening, Draco found himself curled up within the warm confines of the sofa in the common room. Hermione had gone for a quick trip to the library, and he would be lying if he said he didn't miss her presence. But he knew that – from having to constantly remind himself – he couldn't be around her all the time, much as that disappointed him.

In fact, it was the lack of her that made him pick up the book. It was only a harmless charms book – Hermione's charms book. As he read through it he could hear her voice reading those words, which gave him slight comfort.

He heard footsteps coming from the Tower staircase, and beamed. He held the book in one hand and brought his eyes towards the door.

Draco frowned when there came a knock.

"Hello?"

Draco recognised the voice, and an instant grimace melted over his features. He returned to the book he'd been reading.

"Hello," the voice repeated, when the owner of which slowly pushed the door open.

Draco's grimace became a harsh glare as he snapped his gaze towards the Weasel.

"Oh. _Malfoy_." The freckled idiot reciprocated the glare.

"Yes?" he drawled in reply. "This is my common room, in case you didn't notice. Shove off, why don't you?" The red head ignored him. Draco shot up from where he sat and strode straight over to him, gritting his teeth in anger. "Hey, Weasel. I just told you to leave."

"Why are you even allowed in the school," the Weasel commented. "You're still a death eater, aren't you? Ran off with your parents back to Malfoy Manor during the war, like the cowards you are. Why didn't you just stay there with them?"

"Why would I tell _you_ ," he retorted.

The Weasel shrugged, his gaze falling as he lost interest. He frowned, studying the book Draco had kept hold of in his hand. "Isn't that, Hermione's?"

Draco faltered, glancing down towards it. "What of it?"

"Did she even let you borrow that from her?"

"I really don't want to be in a conversation with you, Weaselbee, and least of all about some dumb old book. If I wanted to talk about books, then I'd much rather discuss it with the Mudblood." He inwardly winced at the word tainting his mouth, knowing he was referring to Hermione – but he had to keep up this pretence. He especially didn't want to speak nicely of Hermione in front of her boyfriend, who would probably get suspicious. He hated Weasley, even more so that he knew he was going behind Hermione's back. It quite frankly disgusted him.

The Weasel instantly flared up. "Don't you say that about my girlfriend!"

"I can say what I damn well like; you can't tell me what to do, Weasel." Draco tossed the book onto the sofa. "But, being above you, I can certainly tell you to get out of here."

Ron shoved roughly into Draco.

"What is your problem, you red haired idiot," he snapped. He wanted nothing more than to tackle him to the ground, but was reminded that, whilst his anger was quickly rising with the hate for him, he was still _Hermione's_ boyfriend.

But… the pathetic Weasel was cheating on her.

"Come on, Malfoy, fight back – you coward."

Draco drew out his wand and aimed it directly at his rival. "Granger isn't here right now, so if you're waiting for her then I suggest you do so somewhere else." He scowled, his rage at him building. "Or perhaps instead you could just go and find some other girl to snog. You'd be happy with that, wouldn't you, Weasel?"

The red head hesitated for the smallest of moments, but covered it up quickly. "What are you talking about, Malfoy?"

Draco nodded towards the door. "The exit's right there. Get out of my sight."

Ron shot him a cold look, before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Draco collapsed onto the sofa, retrieving Hermione's book. "I'm sorry," he muttered. He hated himself for calling her by that name. He was happy to admit now that he liked Hermione. He had practically no one else, so it was comforting to have someone like her be so… well; brilliant. But to know something about her boyfriend…

Draco wanted to tell her. It was difficult as it was with his rival having his hands all over his friend, but to know that she wanted him clearly more so than he wanted her somehow even managed to hurt _him_ too. But he also didn't want to be the one to have to break it to her.

She shouldn't have paired herself with the likes of Ron Weasley. He wouldn't mind him as much if they were just friends. Draco told himself again and again, but knew it was true when he said Hermione deserved better.

 _Hell, I'd be a better boyfriend than him for her!_

Draco faltered.

 _Not… that, I like her in that way. I'm, just… proving a point. I've only just become her friend for a couple of months anyway – and still no one knows about it._ Malfoy was rather impressed by that, he had to admit. He and Hermione were pretty good at pretending they hated each other as much as they used to; but then he'd catch her cute smile, with her dimples showing, and he'd know that everything was good between them.

 _Not that I take too much notice in her smile. Or her dimples._

Draco began to panic. His mind was starting to mess with him. Surely there was a rational explanation for this?

 _I mean, I can think up plenty of reasons why I don't like her in_ that _way…_

Draco's eyes widened, as he sat alone with an empty list in his mind.

* * *

When Hermione finally reached the common room, Draco immediately put down the book, to look over to her and smile. She strode over to where he sat on the sofa and frowned slightly at him.

"Draco," she started, "Ron was storming away from the Tower. He said you sent him out."

Draco nodded, deciding it best to just be honest. "I couldn't stand having to be in the same room as that Weasel."

"Who happens to be my boyfriend," she retorted sharply.

Draco sighed. "I know that, but the moment he walked in I wanted to go over there and…" he caught Hermione's look. "But I didn't! I didn't hurt him; your Weasel is unharmed."

"From what I heard, you threatened him."

"And you're going to _listen_ to that idiot?" He paused, considering what he said. "Of course you are," he corrected. "Well, I told him to get out – which is perfectly reasonable, when this is our Tower and he has no right to be in here…"

"My friends have every right to come in here if they want to, Draco, and Ronald is no exception."

Draco got up from the sofa and strode around it to stand directly opposite Hermione. "I get that, but when it's just me and him in one room I can't deal with it. He's a pathetic little twerp who doesn't know what he's doing."

Hermione gave him a look of pure outrage. "He's a – What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Mean by _what_ ," he fired back.

"Of course he knows what he's doing…"

Draco clenched his jaw. "If you think that him going behind the back of his girlfriend is him knowing what he's doing, then that's fine by me!"

Hermione froze. "…What?"

Draco kept his jaw clenched, staying silent. _Now I've done it._

"Draco, what are you talking about; Ronald wouldn't…"

"He would and he has, Hermione," he spat finally. "I saw him with someone a while ago, and…"

"Whoa, hold on," she cut in. "You _knew_ about this? A _while_ ago? And you didn't, _tell_ me?"

"I was going to, but I…"

"I don't want a stupid explanation, Malfoy," she retorted. She exhaled deeply. "I… I just want to go to sleep."

"But, Hermione…"

"Goodnight, Malfoy," she said sharply, and without another word left to her room.


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning, Draco had got up early to try and talk with Hermione – to find she'd expected him to do so, and had somehow got up earlier.

 _Perhaps she's gone to shout at Weaselbee_. Draco smiled half-heartedly. He chewed at his lip as he made his way to go to the Great Hall.

He arrived there at the usual time, and went over to the Gryffindor table to sit next to Hermione.

"Granger," he said stiffly, not particularly interested in pretending to hate her.

She ignored him, shifting slightly to face away from him.

Potter sat on the opposite side of the table. He glared at Draco, almost as a sign of acknowledgement, before turning to Hermione.

His voice was low, as he leaned across the table towards her. "Hermione, what was going on in…?"

"Harry, I don't want to talk about it. Not here, and not right now. I just… need some time, okay?"

Draco eyed Hermione. Oddly enough, her voice didn't sound of anger, though it looked as though she wanted others to think so. She sounded, more… upset. Distressed.

He needed to talk to her, but couldn't say what he wanted to surrounded by so many other people – especially Potter. But he couldn't bear seeing her like this.

Without having eaten anything, Draco got up from where he sat and strode out of the Great Hall. He didn't give a backwards glance (thus didn't see Hermione glance up to see where he'd gone, to then glance at the empty plate he'd left, untouched by food), but could hear the two as he left.

"What's going on with Malfoy?" Draco grimaced at Potter's need to know everything.

"Being perfectly honest, I couldn't care less," he heard Hermione reply.

Draco inhaled deeply at that, but didn't turn back around. He kept his eyes firmly on the entrance doors of the Great Hall and just concentrated on walking.

* * *

Draco hadn't planned where he was heading. He wasn't sure he was heading anywhere. He strode down corridors, not bothering to take in his surroundings. He didn't notice as the corridors got quieter the further he walked, but was glad to notice there were less and less people around the more he walked on.

Draco looked up when he heard giggling. His upper lip curled in distaste as he caught sight of the two people coming towards him from the other side of the corridor. Of all the people to have to walk past, it had to be the Weasel and that Lavender girl. He grimaced, knuckles whitening as his palms closed into fists. Perhaps it wasn't such bad timing, after all.

Draco kept his head down – until the moment the Weasel passed by him, when he shoved into the redhead. The Weasel went to protest, whilst the girl gave a surprised squeal; Draco shot his hand out, gripped onto the idiot's shoulder, and pushed him up against the wall of the corridor.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy?!"

Draco pinned each of Weasel's shoulders down under a strong grip, and leant his head towards his.

"You, are a disgrace, to Wizard kind," Malfoy hissed, jaw clenching as he bored a deadly glare into the freckled face of his rival. "You insolent, pathetic, _bastard_."

"What is your problem?!"

"I would ask you the same thing, Weasel," he spat, glancing towards Lavender, who just stood watching the pair of them uselessly.

"Why do you care about what goes on in my life," the redhead frowned.

"It's not _you_ I care about, idiot," he retorted. Something caught his eye; Draco glanced down in direction to the end of the corridor, to see Hermione stood there. She'd clearly been planning to walk alone, to think things through, but had stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of them. She spun on her heel and retraced her steps.

Draco snapped his head back to the Weasel, looking him over with an icy scowl. He turned to look back at where Hermione had been, and finally sighed in decision. He dropped the Weasel from his grasp, gave him a final cold-hearted, defiant stare, before striding in the same direction Hermione had gone.

...

Draco could see her up ahead of him. He quickened his pace, for once not caring about what other students would think. He caught sight of an ajar door to an empty classroom. Now within reach he grabbed hold of Hermione's wrist, spun her around and led her to the classroom. He shut the door, locked it with a mutter of ' _colloportus'_ , and then turned to face her.

She was unexpectedly quite close; Draco went to open his mouth to speak, when a sudden sharp sting ran across his face at the crack of skin against skin. He winced in pain, momentarily dazed.

"What was that for, Hermione?!"

"What, do you think you were _doing_ ," she questioned, glaring at him.

Draco stared incredulously at her. "What was _I_ doing? I'm not the one who cheated on you!"

"That doesn't give you the right to lash out at the guy who did!"

He threw his hands up in exasperation, "He deserved far worse, Hermione…"

"I know," she replied sharply. Her voice dropped. "But you didn't have to be the one to give it to him. He was my _boyfriend_."

"So, you're saying you forgive him, for this? That you still like him?"

She frowned. "No. I don't plan on forgiving him. Nonetheless, attacking him like that isn't going to solve anything."

"You're mad at _me_ , then," Draco sighed, eyes falling to the floor.

"…No." Draco shot his gaze back over to her. "No, I'm mad at him. I'm disappointed in you."

His breath left him, leaving him hollow. "… _Disappointed?_ "

Hermione looked directly at him. "You knew, but you didn't tell me."

Draco caught back his breath. "I know, I know I did and, I'm sorry, Hermione; really. But I didn't want to be the one to tell you. I knew something like this was bound to happen. Besides, much as I hate the insipid Weasel… I knew that you liked him. You were happy. I didn't want to… break, that."

Hermione faltered. She gave him the smallest of sad smiles, before glancing down to the floor.

"I'm really, really sorry, Hermione," he repeated.

She sighed, returning her gaze to his. "You don't, have much reason to be. Not as much as him, anyway. You were trying to do the right thing, and I didn't realise." She outstretched her arms, and pulled the unsuspecting Draco into a hug. Draco reciprocated the gesture, his head at her shoulder, allowing her to bury her head into his own shoulder.

He patted her warmly, sighing. "I don't understand that Weasel," he muttered.

Hermione gave a muffled laugh. She pulled away from him, and Draco could see her face now to be tear stained. He reached over and carefully brushed them away with his thumb.

"I was right, you know," he commented as he wiped the last tear from her face. "You didn't deserve him. At all. You clearly deserve better." He put his hands on each of her shoulders. "So don't cry over him, okay?"

Hermione nodded, smiling at him. "Who could ever think that Draco Malfoy would one day want to comfort me," she said, her smile becoming a grin.

"I'm as surprised as you are, Granger," he agreed, his nickname for her now rid of the taunting he used to give those years ago, instead replaced with warmth.


	14. Chapter 14

"He did _what_?!"

Hermione kept a cool head, unlike Harry. "He went behind my back, Harry. That's why we're not together anymore."

"But… I, I don't understand. Why would Ron do something like that?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know."

Harry thought it through. "With you being stuck with Malfoy all the time, and now this… you can't be having a great year, can you?"

Hermione smiled. "It's not too bad. After all, we've battled worse."

"If I were you, I'd prefer being faced with Voldemort, than… whatever it is you're wrapped up in." She laughed. "I guess I'm probably the best you've got now," Harry commented.

Draco popped into her mind, but she couldn't tell Harry. At least, not yet. He would get too freaked out by the whole thing. "Mmhmm," she agreed with a small nod.

"Who's the girl?" Harry asked. "Sorry, but I was just, curious."

Hermione nodded. "Lavender."

Harry's eyes widened, his eyebrows ready to jump from his face. " _Lavender?!_ What's he thinking?" He frowned. "How did you even find out?" His face fell, "You didn't, _see_ them…?"

"No, no – but someone else told me. They, unfortunately, almost walked in on the two of them."

Harry shuddered. "Who told you?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Oh, just… you know…"

Harry studied her warily, but didn't probe her further. "Right. Yeah."

* * *

Draco and Hermione were curled up one evening on the sofa by the roaring fire, both under a blanket. This seemed to be becoming a common thing, the two of them spending each night together, where Hermione would teach Draco – but usually it would meander off the academic path and delve into just talking.

"The main thing to focus on is the pronunciation of the words as you cast it," Hermione explained. "Otherwise the spell could go awry, or it just won't work. But it's important to keep in mind the movements of the wand as you cast it, as well."

"Right," Draco nodded, glancing at his wand in his hand. He turned back to face Hermione. "Show me an example."

Hermione thought for a moment, and was about to do so with her own wand, when the door to their common room opened. Draco launched himself off the sofa, dropping his wand in the frantic process. Hermione jumped up after him.

"Oh, Professor McGonagall," Draco sighed, running a relieved hand through his hair.

"Good evening, Malfoy," the headmistress nodded. The two made their way over to her, standing side by side. "As you probably both know, the winter months are beginning to take hold. Now that Hogwarts is once more restored, I think some sort of celebration is in order – which, in effect would coincide with the festivities of Christmas. As Head Boy and Girl of the school, I think the pair of you should be able to come up with plans for such an event." She nodded assertively, eyeing the two of them. "That'll be all."

Hermione nodded politely, and Draco – watching her do so – copied her action. McGonagall pursed her lips, her eyebrows ever so slightly raised, as she exited the common room.

"Planning a party as well as all this studying we have to do? Brilliant," Draco muttered, returning to where he'd sat on the sofa.

Hermione followed after him, sitting once more beside him. "It shouldn't be that difficult. The both of us are relatively intelligent, so the progress of our studies aren't much of a problem. You're actually catching up pretty quickly, Draco." He smiled gratefully. "As for the party," she continued, "I guess there would be no harm in organising it similar to the Yule Ball from fourth year."

Draco looked her over with a grin. "And this is why they made sure you became Head Girl." Hermione laughed. "So, can we go back to the studying – now that that's sorted," Draco asked.

Hermione rose an eyebrow at him. "Do I hear Draco Malfoy wanting to study?"

He shrugged. "I have to confess, Granger, you make it far more interesting," he replied.

She smiled. She'd never received this sort of thing when trying to help Harry or Ronald with their studies. They would usually leave her to herself, because they would complain so much that Hermione would get annoyed and tell them she would just do it without them. Whereas here, Draco was genuinely interested. Clearly he valued academic intelligence, to some extent.

She pulled out her wand, and with a clear voice stated, "Aguamenti."

A line of water began to billow from her wand. Draco watched Hermione's hand movements as she carefully twisted her wrist, letting the water coil in the air in a precise spiral. The water rippled as it moved, but stayed in shape.

Draco glanced towards Hermione, smiling at her look of concentration. He shifted slightly closer to her, careful so as not to distract her. He leant the arm closer to her against the back of the sofa, using it to support himself as he leant slowly forward, his other hand reaching out towards the coil of the twirling water stream. Hermione noticed him do so, and sent the string of water to spiral delicately around his hand.

"This is… amazing," he breathed. He'd never seen a spell like this, and never one so beautifully cast. He turned his gaze to Hermione, smiling. She turned her concentration to him, and smiled in reply – and Draco felt warm water suddenly shower over his hand. He saw Hermione's eyes widen in surprise, and turned back to see the spiral of water had collapsed, now a puddle on the floor. His hand was soaked.

Draco pouted at Hermione. "I'll get you back for that, Granger," he muttered, but couldn't keep his pout, and in the end gave in to his amusement, laughing.


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry for these chapters being so short - I will hopefully make it up with longer ones as this goes on :)**

* * *

Writing notes for the Potions class later that day, Draco paused when he heard footsteps coming from the staircase that led to Hermione's room. He immediately spun his head around from where he sat on the sofa, beaming as she made an appearance.

Her hair was tied up in a messy ponytail, her clothes simple and comfortable – and yet Draco felt something. A small tingle, running down the back of his spine and through his fingers. He looked her over, noting how naturally… stunning, she always looked.

Draco pulled his head back around to face the parchment he'd been writing on. _I can't think of her like that_ , he told himself sternly.

Hermione walked across the room to look over his shoulder, leaning over the back of the sofa. Draco sensed her do so and tilted his head back to give her a lopsided grin.

"What are you writing there, Draco?"

He kept his gaze on her as he replied, "Just stuff for Potions."

She patted his head, hand lingering as she grinned, "I've trained you up pretty well. My work is done." Draco was stuck between wanting to keep listening to her voice, and wanting her hand to stay with her fingers through his hair.

He realised he'd stayed silent for perhaps longer than necessary, and sat upright, giving his head a quick shake as he swallowed nervously. "Well, I don't believe that completely, Granger."

Hermione cocked her head. "And what makes you say that?"

He shrugged, eyes unable to stop following her as she made to sit beside him on the sofa. "To start," he began, fumbling with his parchment and quill, now worried to look at her in case he couldn't pull his gaze away. "I am already as intelligent as you are. Not just that, but you can't train a Malfoy; they will always do their own thing and have the rebellious streak to break rules which even you, dear Granger, won't be able to tame me from doing." He grinned, not realising he'd looked over to her as he had talked.

Hermione shifted closer. "I can certainly try," she smirked mischievously. Draco's grin dropped; he shivered involuntarily. She shrugged, having not noticed him do so – or at least, pretended not to have done. "That or I could go along with you and break some rules."

Draco rose an eyebrow. "Are you up for that kind of thing, Granger? I'd hate to see if you were no longer every teacher's pet."

Hermione playfully shoved him as Draco laughed. "I think I'd be more worried about yourself, Draco," she pointed out. "With all these lessons I'm giving you, you may take up such a position. What would the school think of that?"

Draco paused. "They'd probably think I was ill." He gave her an accusing nod, "You're turning me into you."

"Is that not a good thing," she remarked, her dimples showing.

"D'you think I'd be able to pull it off?"

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose you're sort of clever."

"Granger, don't underestimate my evident intelligence."

"Well, do you think you'd pull off being me?"

"I don't think I'd ever be able to be as beautiful as you," he admitted suddenly, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them. His eyes widened.

"…What," Hermione asked with a light laugh. "Draco, did I just hear you say what I think you said?"

"Of course not, Granger… you're just, hearing things," he muttered, straightening himself upon the sofa. "You're not, at all… pretty."

"Ah, so you _did_ say what I thought you said," she grinned.

 _Damn_.

"No, but that isn't the point, because… you're not – you're not pretty."

She tilted her head and poised an eyebrow at him. "You're a rubbish friend," she teased.

"Haven't you come across honesty before, Granger," he retorted, before thinking through how harsh he'd made himself sound. _This was a mess_. "No, no, that's not… you see, I don't… when – when, I said… ahh," he moaned, rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand.

Hermione quietly leant towards Draco. "Hey…" He glanced up at her in shock. "I understand."

"You – you _do_?" he choked.

Hermione nodded, before giving him a smile.

 _Those dimples._


	16. Chapter 16

**Slightly more mature topic towards the end of this chapter guys...**

 **Enjoy reading [and happy Halloween!]**

 **Thanks for the supportive reviews :)**

* * *

Draco was slowly beginning to panic. He was trying so hard to do multiple things at once, and the whole thing was just messing with his head.

He was attempting to keep up the act that there was still hate between himself and Hermione – but he liked her too much as a friend, and he feared it may be starting to show. He was making sure he stayed close friends with her – but was being plagued by the uninvited want to be more than her friend. He'd never liked someone in this way before: was this sort of thing _supposed_ to happen?

Draco, Hermione and Harry were sat together along the table of the Great Hall for breakfast, in their usual places: Hermione and Draco sat beside each other, and Harry opposite the pair.

"Morning, Potter," Draco had nodded to him when they'd settled down to eat. He didn't have as strong a passion of hate aimed towards him anymore. Perhaps this was Hermione's doing.

Draco had listened to the conversation between Hermione and Harry whilst he ate. He respected that she probably needed to catch up with the guy more, now spending so much of her time teaching – and simply being around – Draco. He also knew that he still disliked Harry, much as his blinding hate had subsided. Draco preferred to look over in Hermione's direction as the conversation went on, trying – yet failing – to keep himself discreet about it.

"Oh," she exclaimed suddenly.

"What is it _now_ , Granger," Draco sighed, his air of bored sarcasm conflicting with his evident expression of worry as he shifted closer to her.

"Ah, don't worry, it's nothing," she assured, before pausing. " _Malfoy_ ," she added. Hermione turned to Harry, "I've left my Charms book upstairs."

"Do you want me to go and get it for you," Draco offered, instantly catching sight of Potter's gaze snapping to stare over at him. Draco mentally hit himself. Hermione turned to face him as well, but her look was sympathetic at the fact he'd slipped up. Draco tried to cover it up: he started to chuckle softly. "Your faces," he muttered. "You thought I was actually going to _get_ a book for Granger?"

Hermione shook her head in 'annoyance', before getting to her feet. "I won't be too long," she told Potter, who still glanced at Draco with slight confusion. Hermione began to walk down to the entrance of the Great Hall; Draco turned his head to watch her leave. When she left through the doors, he finally turned back – to find Potter frowning at him.

"What are you looking at, Potter," he sneered. That seemed to be enough to convince his rival, who shrugged and turned back to his breakfast.

...

Hermione smiled to herself as she found her charms book. Draco was getter nicer as a friend day after day. Who'd have ever expected it? Students no longer found it odd that they were constantly seen together, now that the rumour Draco had started had passed around about the both of them having no choice in the matter. But he was starting to slip up in pretending not to like her – which, for some reason, Hermione could only take as a good thing. After all, it only meant that _he liked her_. Being liked by someone is never a bad thing. And she found that she liked him too. However, she doubted whether others would be so keen as to befriend him.

* * *

The scratching of quill against parchment could be heard going at a steady pace from Hermione's side of the desk. Draco didn't understand how she did it. Not that he was struggling: he was known to have been an intelligent pupil in the past and he still was, which was why he enjoyed being taught by Hermione. But he also like being taught by Hermione, because… she was Hermione.

Draco put his quill against the ink pot, glancing over to the young adult beside him. Her hair was in a ponytail, but a couple of curls were tucked behind her ear, some of which draping over her face as she bent her head down to concentrate on her writing. Her shirt sleeves had been rolled up, and her tie was loosely around her neck, the top collar button left open. It was as though she wore the uniform, but not as perfectly as she once would have deemed it a necessity to. The corner of Draco's mouth twitched upward at that. Her eyes, glittering a deep brown, flickered across her piece of parchment, and she bit her lip – a sign of pure focus.

Draco shifted forward towards her, his arm leaning across the table. His sharp elbow caught the edge of his quill, which in turn tilted the inkpot over.

Draco jolted back in surprise as ink was suddenly running over his side of the desk. Hermione turned to see what the fuss was about; her eyes widened. She pulled her parchment quickly out of the way.

...

Harry frowned over towards where Malfoy and Hermione were sat in their Potions class. He had occasionally glanced up from his work, and found his eyes went to see how Hermione was – of course, she had her head down within her work every time. He looked over towards Malfoy as well, from time to time. He'd acted strangely this morning, and even Harry couldn't merely dismiss it. Which was why his suspicions increased as, during several times Harry had looked away from his own work, he found Malfoy to be looking at… Hermione. At least, until he'd knocked over the inkpot, at which he'd jumped and began cursing. Harry had grinned at that.

He wasn't particularly known for being observant – that was usually Hermione's job – but somehow the cogs started to turn in his head.

"Ron," he whispered sharply. "Ron!"

The redhead glanced over at him. "What?" Whilst Harry too hadn't forgiven Ron for what he'd done to Hermione, he was still his best friend and couldn't hate him forever.

"I think… I think, Draco, likes…" Harry flickered his gaze to the two on the opposite side of the class. "Hermione," he finished.

Ron stared blankly at him for a few moments, before frowning. "What?!" he hissed. He spun around to follow where Harry had been looking. Malfoy had his jaw clenched, brow furrowing in annoyance – from ink having been spilt across his side of the table. Ron couldn't help but grin at that. Hermione had noticed the damage, and quickly yanked her parchment out of danger.

Ron spun back. "No," he said with a shake of his head. "No, Harry… No." He frowned at Harry. "You're seeing things, mate. Why would Malfoy like Hermione?"

Harry paused. "We like Hermione," he pointed out.

Ron faltered. "Yeah, but… this is Malfoy we're talking about. Hater of Mudbloods, remember? Besides, you said yourself a while back: he's forced to be with her all the time."

Harry nodded, still slightly uncertain.

...

Draco's shirt was stained in black blotches of ink. He stared at his side of the desk, dripping with ink. He cursed under his breath. Hermione had pulled away her work from the mess, much to his relief – he had seen how much effort she'd put into it. Suddenly, she had her wand in hand. Draco frowned.

"Evanesco," she said; her wand began to siphon away the puddle of ink across the table. Draco stared at Hermione. Did she just know how to solve _everything_?

The ink was cleared away. Hermione handed him spare parchment, and put her own inkpot in the centre of the desk. "You can use that ink for the time being," she instructed. "As for your shirt… we can sort that out later." She smiled. "You're not usually one to be clumsy, are you, Draco?"

Draco gave a sheepish, lopsided grin. "Apparently, the incident would prove otherwise, so it would seem, Granger." He nodded to her wand. "Do you think you could teach me that one?"

* * *

"Draco, come on, just take off your shirt!"

He hadn't ever expected to hear those words come from Hermione. A part of him wanted to snigger, whilst the other wanted to cower away with nerves. "You haven't explained why yet, Granger," he pointed out with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. "Because of your clumsiness, you idiot," she retorted.

"Is it really necessary for me to take off my shirt, or is it that you've now got yourself an excuse for me to," he smirked.

Hermione stared at him. "Draco!" She hit his chest; he laughed.

"Fine, fine; look, if it makes you happy, I'll take it off," he grinned, starting to unbutton from the collar of his shirt.

"Draco… if you and your inappropriate mind _must_ know, I haven't yet mastered how to cleanse a material if it's being worn by the user. I don't want to be sent away for irreversible ink poisoning – there's always a possibility that the ink could transfer from the shirt to your skin."

He shrugged. "Fair enough," he decided. "Although – Granger to not have fully mastered something? There seems to be a flaw in this potentially made up excuse of yours."

Even so, he continued unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled it off and handed it in Hermione's direction. She looked him over as she took it, and after the shirt was in her hands, she didn't move.

Draco laughed. "Like what you see, Granger?"

Hermione didn't slap him – considering his upper half was completely bare – but certainly had a good mind to. She had been momentarily caught by his chest, if she were to be honest: his muscles surprised her, having had seen him months earlier unhealthily skinny. He was still thin as he was tall, but he'd clearly been doing _something_ to get to how he now looked. _Surely_. But she had then caught sight of his lower left arm, and she couldn't tear her eyes away.

When she didn't reply, Draco followed her gaze. His grin melted. "Ah."

Hermione edged towards him slowly. Draco's eyes widened: he was stood half naked and Hermione was getting _closer_ to him. He swallowed, heart drumming painfully through his chest as she reached out a hand and took hold of the arm in question.

"Does it… _hurt_ ," she mumbled, eyeing the black, shadowed tattoo.

He shook his head quickly, before blurting out, "No." In some sort of way, that was technically true. When the mark of the Death Eater was first etched into his skin, it had been excruciatingly painful. Now that the days had passed, however, the pain had slowly decreased, and now he could only feel a numb throb whenever it caught his attention. Other than that, he didn't really notice it.

With her other hand, Hermione ran her fingers along the tattoo. Draco shivered. He watched her frown. "What are… the, other marks," she muttered, brow furrowing.

"Oh," Draco breathed. "Well… that's what I did, when I tried to get rid of it. The tattoo was meant to be permanent, of course, but with everything that had happened, I just... I wanted it gone. I didn't know of any, counter charms, or, healing charms for this kind of thing. But I _did_ know that if I went around asking, no one would be willing to help. It is the Death Eater's mark, after all."

"But, Draco… your arm… you've _burnt_ it - and, _cut_ it and, Merlin knows what else..."

He nodded guiltily. "I know."

She brushed her fingers ever so softly against the scars. She glanced up at him, to find his eyes already on her. Hermione bit her lip. "...Why? Why, did you so this?"

Draco sighed. "It was a difficult time. I hated the only people I had looked up to in the past. I was alone in a house that was too big, too dark and too empty. I had just been a part of the war, knowing I was fighting on the wrong side. I wasn't really thinking quite clearly, Granger."

Hermione hugged him. Draco held back a squeak of surprise, having her pressed up against his skin. She pulled away soon after, cheeks burning pink. "Sorry," she mumbled. Hermione took a final glance at him, before remembering his shirt needed fixing; she retrieved her wand and walked quietly to her room.

Draco stood frozen to the spot, his eyes locked onto where Hermione had been last. "No problem…"


	17. Chapter 17

Draco jolted out from under his covers. _Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. This wasn't good. This was very, very,_ very _not good._

He rubbed his eyes with his hands, before stumbling out of his bed in only his boxers.

He had dreamt. Which wasn't that bad. The nightmares had slowly been replaced by dreams, as he'd become happier at this school. But this dream…

 _No. Thinking about it will only make things worse._

He strode to the window to push it open – tripping over a couple of things from having to walk through the dark – and gasped for the fresh air cooling his face.

He exhaled deeply, hands supporting him by leaning on the sill of the window.

There came a tentative knock at the door. "Draco?"

" _Granger?_ " he replied, mouth going dry.

"Are you alright? I heard noises."

Draco glanced about him, and cursed under his breath.

"I'm fine, Hermione." He dashed – as quietly as possible – to his bedside to retrieve his wand, and directed it towards his door, the spell _Colloportus_ flashing through his mind as he flicked his wand.

"… Did you just lock the door," her voice muttered through the door. Draco rose an eyebrow – but reminded himself that she would easily be able to unlock it, and that he was still in just his boxers.

"Hermione, I'm fine, don't worry about it – I just… I woke up, from a dream. It's nothing." The beginning of his explanation was true. The latter comment… really wasn't.

"A dream?" Hermione paused. "It wasn't… a nightmare, was it?"

Draco shook his head firmly – to remember she couldn't actually see him. "No, no: just a dream. Look, if I can still remember it by the morning, I'll tell you about it then. But for now just go back to sleep, Granger."

He waited in the silence for several moments. "Are you sure, Draco?"

He nodded, "Yes. Get some sleep, Hermione."

"Okay," came the reply, soon followed by footsteps returning to her room.

Draco sighed in relief, collapsing onto his bed – immediately snippets of the dream began to taunt his thoughts.

 _Stood so close to her… his breath hot on her neck… her lips on his… his hands dancing over her, as her hands ran through his tousled blonde hair…_

Draco shook his head. There was no way he was going to tell her, whether or not he remembered it by the morning. And he had a feeling this was something that would be difficult to forget quickly.

* * *

Draco walked slowly down the stone staircase until he reached the bottom, into the common room. He found Hermione stood there, already waiting.

"Hi Draco," she smiled warmly.

"Granger," he nodded, returning the smile. He glanced over her quickly, then – feeling his cheeks start to flush – turned his eyes to the floor, or anywhere that wasn't her.

"Are you alright? After what happened earlier this morning."

Draco grasped an oblivious expression, eyeing her momentarily with it. "What happened earlier this morning, Hermione?" he asked, his tone smothered with confusion.

"Oh," she muttered, but scrutinised him even so. "Don't you, remember?"

Draco hid his eyes from her once more, dragging them to the door of their common room. "What is it that I should, remember?"

Hermione sighed. "You had a dream that woke you up, and I came to find out what was wrong."

"I see," Draco nodded. He paused. "Can't have been too bad. I'd say to forget about it, Granger."

She looked him over, and suddenly Draco found the floor very interesting. "Alright. If you're sure you're okay, Draco," she said with a smile, walking over to him. "Coming to breakfast?"

He blinked; she was suddenly so close to him.

 _So very close._

He shuddered inwardly, a warm tingling spreading over his lips as if reminiscent of a memory. Though technically, a dream isn't a memory.

"Yes – yeah, Granger," he croaked, face burning. "Lead the way."

...

"Hermione," Draco called from the sofa later that day, curiosity overcoming his nerves around her.

"Yes," she answered from the other side of the room, turning to face him.

He looked over from the sofa he lounged across. "I was just, merely interested… can you, produce a Protronus charm?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes. Why do you ask?"

"I suppose I'm not surprised really; you are Hermione Granger, after all. Brightest witch of our age, so I've heard. But I was only curious. It's never been something taught at Hogwarts, has it?"

"No. In fact, I only learnt it by what Harry told me."

"Potter," Draco drawled slowly. "He was scared of the Dementors, wasn't he? From what I can recall, he fainted once from meeting one. Rather dramatic of him."

Hermione sent him a glare; Draco grinned mischievously. "Whilst I'm able to like you, Granger, I still struggle to be at all interested in the likes of your stardom-blinded friend. I haven't been as cruel towards him as I could be, for your sake only." He watched her smile, before asking, "Do you think you could teach me the Protronus charm? Or at the very least, show me."

Hermione got up from where she sat, going over to the sofa Draco sat on. He pushed his legs off and sat up properly to give her room, and as she sat he shifted closer towards her. "I'll show you; okay, Malfoy," she grinned.

"Go ahead, Granger," he nodded.

Her wand in her hand, she held it up. Quietly, she stated, "Expecto Patronum."

A silvery line of light billowed from Hermione's wand. Draco watched as the glowing sliver form of an otter danced across the room, showering the space with a shimmering light.

"Beautiful, don't you think," Hermione whispered.

Draco's eyes were drawn to instead look at her. His gaze drifted over her features, from her dark locks of thick brown hair; her glittering eyes; her mouth, lips slightly parted. "Yeah," he smiled.


	18. Chapter 18

Draco, Hermione and Harry were sat outside – which would be considered odd, as the months were steadily getting colder, but for now the chilled breeze almost felt refreshing. Hermione conversed idle chatter with Harry – when Draco noticed someone walking towards them. A cold, despising glare was aimed towards the redhead immediately from Draco, through his grey eyes and sourly upturned lip. Hermione frowned but said nothing as she too noticed the arriving visitor; Harry was the only one to offer a smile. "Hey Ron."

The Weasel nodded, passing his gaze across the three of them – his expression darkened at the sight of Draco. "What do you think you're doing here, Malfoy," he said sharply. "You do realise who you're sat with, don't you?"

"I see that Weaselbee has been too occupied with sticking his tongue down other girls' throats to notice I've been sat with the both Granger and, unfortunately also Potter, for weeks," he drawled in a taunting reply, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Ron scoffed, "I think I'd notice if the enemy was sat over here with my…"

"He's right, Ronald," Hermione butted in, not even sparing her gaze over to him. Draco glanced to her. This Weasel was just blundering about without even giving a thought for  
Hermione. She continued monotonously, "There was a rule set up around the beginning of term, him being Head Boy and myself being Head Girl." She finally brought her eyes up to Ron, but gave no smile. "Things change, Ronald. Sometimes they're the sort of things you least expect."

Ron frowned in disbelief, catching the meaning she signalled across. "Are you still thinking about _that_ , Hermione? I apologised, didn't I?"

"An apology? That's _pathetic_ ," Draco exclaimed. He knew he was edging towards dangerous waters by being protective over Hermione, but in the heat of the moment that thought was quickly lost. "You go behind someone's back, so you apologise – and then you think everything's going to be alright afterwards? No punishments? No consequences?"

"And you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Malfoy," Ron retorted with a grimace.

Harry warily tapped his friend's arm. "Ron, I don't think that…"

Ron stared at him. "Harry! This is Malfoy we're talking about here! Your enemy for roughly seven years. On the side of Voldemort _himself_."

"For your information, Ronald," Hermione explained, "The _Malfoys_ were on the side of Voldemort. Draco never said he supported Voldemort. He was roped unwillingly into it by forceful means. He didn't have a choice in this: he was pulled into things that were out of his hands."

"Oh, well that makes it okay then," Ron exclaimed, throwing his arms up in incredulity. "He tried to kill us, but it's not that bad because he didn't want to. So you've forgiven the ferret then, have you, Hermione?" He pointed accusingly in Draco's direction. "You know, just because he was made Head Boy, does not make him a good guy."

Hermione gritted her teeth. "And, the fact that you knowingly and willingly snogged another girl behind the back of your girlfriend, doesn't make you a bad one?!"

Ron stepped back in shock. He shook his head in a lack of credence. "I don't believe this," he muttered, before walking away.

Harry turned to face Draco and Hermione, puzzling the previous conversation over. "Did you two, just, defend… _each other_?"

"Absolutely not," Hermione said with a nervous laugh. Draco chewed at his lip, coming to a decision. He tapped Hermione's shoulder. She glanced over at him, and he leant forward to whisper in her ear. His breath was warm in contrast to the cool breeze chilling the air; most likely almost _hot against her neck_. Draco shivered as this thought crossed his mind, but he managed to ignore it. Hermione studied his definitive gaze for approval, before turning back to face Harry, who was preoccupied, staring in confusion at the two of them. "Okay, maybe that wasn't quite true, Harry."

Harry blinked. "…What?"

Hermione glanced towards Draco. She sighed. "Look, I know the pair of you have a history of hating each other. But, Harry: much as I know what you may think is because you want to do what you think is right for me… I have my own mind, and I can make my own choices."

Harry frowned. "But, what has that got to do with…"

"Malfoy," she interrupted, "whilst he has a sharp tongue, and is sometimes quite the troublemaker – is no worse than that." She paused. "Well, slight exaggeration…"

"Granger, I do hope you're not using this as a way to, ramble, about my supposed faults," Draco said with a poised eyebrow.

Harry's brow furrowed. "You don't mean to say… he's your _friend_?"

"Hey, were you even listening to her, Potter? She clearly explained that she can make her own choices," Draco barked.

"But… _you_?" He turned to Hermione. " _Him_? You… you, can't be _serious_."

"I don't like it that she's friends with you either, scar face, but at least I can deal with it better."

Harry stepped over towards Draco. "You were a Death Eater."

"So I've been reminded constantly by the Weasel."

"Stop it!" Hermione instructed sharply. "You're both acting like children." The two young men turned silently to face her; Harry with seething shock, and Draco with reluctant obedience. She faced the former of the two. "Harry," she requested. "I don't quite understand how it happened, and I doubt he really does either. I'm not telling you to like him. I just wanted to clear the air. It's really been bugging me. Besides, Draco keeps forgetting to hate me," she finished with a smile.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You're the one wanting to teach me every day."

"Only by your request."

He huffed, retorting, "Which you immediately agreed to."

Hermione pouted, when with a shake of her head could no longer hold back her grin.


	19. Chapter 19

Professor McGonagall stood in front of all houses after their dinner had been served later that day. "Good evening, everyone. I am pleased to announce that, with cooperation from both the Head Boy and Girl, we have decided that to honour those who fought during the, desperate, times of the war that has luckily come to pass, we should host a celebration across the school."

Harry glanced towards Hermione and Draco with mild interest, whilst Ron – who was nearby the three but not quite sat with them – glared in their direction.

"Now, for those who were here, four years ago, this celebration will be organised in likeness to the Yule Ball, of course without the Triwizard competitors having to lead it. The Yule Ball, for those who don't know, is traditionally a grand dance. Whilst we shall keep this tradition, there may be slight alterations compared to the style of the Yule Ball, considering as the cause for the festivities is quite different. But, even so; all must find themselves a dance partner, ready for when it shall be held in December. That'll be all," she finished, and the Hall erupted into noise.

"A dance – _again_ ," Harry exclaimed, shoulders slacking as he stared at Hermione and Draco. "Hermione, do you know how difficult that was last time?"

"You waited until the last moment to find someone, and you were a champion and so had to dance first," Hermione pointed out. "Why don't you ask Ginny this time?"

His eyes lit up. "You're brilliant, Hermione." She smiled.

Draco opened the door for Hermione as the pair stepped into their common room.

...

"Well, the school seemed to take it well," Hermione commented brightly.

"It was your idea, Granger," Draco replied.

Hermione grinned. "Do you think it's alright then?"

Draco faltered. "I don't see why not," he shrugged. The last time this Ball had happened, he'd been partnered up with Pansy Parkinson. That hadn't been particularly to his tastes, but she used to grovel all over him, which at the time he had loved, wanting to be the centre of attention. But now… who was he supposed to dance with? He could ask Hermione… but, it was almost as if something was stopping him. Perhaps it was nerves. He wasn't sure; he'd never experienced this kind of thing before, where he found himself thinking constantly about… a _girl_.

"Hermione," he muttered quietly to himself, to regrettably find he'd - stupidly - spoken aloud.

She turned to him. "Yes, Draco?"

His eyes widened. "Well," he mustered. _Might as well get over nerves and just ask._ "I was merely considering, that… if, of course, in the _unlikely_ possibility that, the two of us, weren't able to… find ourselves, dance partners… well, as a back-up, perhaps we could, go together? Not that I'm asking you to – just, for in case we don't find, anyone."

Hermione laughed. "I suppose I could consider it," she said with a mischievous smirk.

Draco became fixated on that smirk, losing the ability of speech momentarily. "Right…" he mumbled. "Sorry – yes, okay; good! Good." He nodded, before slowly walking to his room, almost in a dream-like manner.

* * *

Draco's eyes narrowed.

"Expecto… _Patronum_."

He focused carefully on his wand.

Nothing happened.

Draco sighed. He'd been trying out the spell for ages, but nothing seemed to be happening. The only thing he could think of doing would be to ask Hermione for assistance.

He got up from his bed, left his room and dashed down the small staircase. He glanced around the common room, but she wasn't there, so he started towards the opposite staircase that led to her room. He reached the top, and knocked upon her door.

"Hello?"

Draco stepped in, the grin on his face slipping to a sheepish smile. Hermione was sat on her bed, surrounded by books.

"Draco," she beamed, gesturing for him to come further into the room. "What is it?"

"Well," he began, scanning for a part of her bed that wasn't occupied by a book. He eventually decided just to take the nearby chair. "I was just wondering… what's the technique?"

Her eyebrows dipped slightly in fond confusion. "Technique of what, Draco?"

"The incantation. The spell," he exclaimed. He then clarified, "The Patronus Charm. I've tried to do it, but… it, won't work."

Hermione laughed; Draco watched her with an affectionate smile. She gathered a couple of her many volumes upon her bed, moved them out of the way and offered him a space to sit. Draco faltered, before obediently obliging.

"The whole point of the spell is to think," Hermione explained.

"I _do_ think."

"Yes, but of a specific thing. A memory. Or, a thought. Something filled with good emotion. So, a happy memory, basically. The strongest you can think of."

Draco's shoulders slumped. "That's it? That's what I missed? I spent ages trying without knowing that! I don't believe this. That's a little odd, though." He rose his eyebrows questionably. "A happy memory? Sounds… overly, _icky_ , for a spell. Not that I can really think of any worthy memories."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile. "Are you sure you can't think of… anything? You must have felt happy at the very least once in your life."

Draco frowned in thought. "Not really," he muttered finally, the idea settling uncomfortably as it came to his realisation. "Well, not anything strong or genuine, anyway. I mean, I enjoyed my younger years at Hogwarts, but that was from taunting people, following the beliefs of my father…" his jaw clenched. "I wouldn't call those happy memories now. More, misled. And then, of course, from Sixth Year it went dramatically downhill."

"But, what about anything, a little more recent," Hermione suggested.

Draco chewed at his lip. "Well, after the war, one could say it got worse." Hermione frowned, but didn't push him for an explanation. "Then, this year – I thought it would never get any better, but then…" he washed his gaze over her. "Then… I had you. I suppose."

Hermione grinned, and he reciprocated the gesture. "Well, Draco," she decided. "Maybe you'll find a strong enough memory from then on. Or there might be some better ones coming up soon."

Draco nodded, unable to drag his eyes away from her. "Yeah."


	20. Chapter 20

"Did you ask her?"

Harry nodded as he, Hermione and Draco sat in the Great Hall, one lunch. "Yeah, I did, Hermione. She had apparently been waiting for me to do so ever since the announcement of the dance."

Hermione grinned. "So I guess she accepted the offer, then?"

"Of course," Harry chuckled.

He went to ask Hermione something – when Ron slid to sit down beside them. He smiled at Harry, ignored Draco's presence and turned to Hermione, whom he had sat next to.

"Hermione."

"Ronald," she acknowledged.

"Look, I'm sorry for… the other day – and, _everything_. Everything since the beginning of this year. I didn't mean to hurt you. I swear. You're one of my best friends, Hermione. The other is sat right there," he gestured to Harry.

"Ron. I accept your apology – but I hope you can understand it if I may not be able to fully forgive you. But I _know_ that we're best friends. And I know, you wouldn't do what you did to purposefully hurt me. But that still doesn't make your actions okay." She sighed. "And Ron: was it so difficult to be able to pull me away in order from the table to have had this conversation?"

"Well, I don't mind Harry hearing this," he shrugged, still ignoring Draco. "But anyway, there was something else I wanted to ask you, too."

Hermione rose her eyebrows, smiling ever so slightly. "Go on."

"Hermione… do you want to come to the dance with me?"

Hermione's smile dropped.

Harry stared over at his best friends in stunned shock.

Draco froze.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I'm… _sorry_?"

"Do you, want to go to the dance? With me."

The muscles tightened incredulously in Draco's jaw as he gritted his teeth, practically on the verge of grinding them away. He glared over at the Weasley.

"Ron," Hermione spluttered, "… You can't… You _apologised_ , in the hope that I would forgive you and then instantly want me to go to a _dance_ with you? I don't believe you sometimes, Ronald Weasley! No; I will not go to the dance with you." Draco couldn't help but relish in the Weasel's broken expression. "Haven't you asked _Lavender_ , at all?"

"No," Ron exclaimed, "No, I… I made a mistake. I shouldn't have left you for her – and especially behind your back. It was stupid, and I realised how much I, need you."

"Ron, you can't just do that and expect me to agree with you!" She paused, failing to calm down. "So you've ended things with her, have you?"

Ron faltered. "Not… not, exactly…"

Hermione shot him a murderous look. "How can you do this, Ron? Where did you think this would ever work out in your favour? I'm not going to go to the dance with you, and that is final. And besides," Hermione added, cheeks flushed, "I'm already going with someone."

Draco had been watching the argument with tense anger, of which had slowly risen throughout. He felt the need to push Hermione out of the way – as gently as possible, of course – and hex the Weasel to oblivion. But he knew that this didn't involve him; he knew that his job would be to comfort Hermione afterwards. Besides, she was doing a grand job in this argument – Draco dearly admired her strong willed character. But then everything came to a shuddering halt when she'd said those words. _I'm already going with someone._

Draco scanned Potter's face. Clearly this was news to him, too – but of course Harry would be pleased for Hermione. It's not like he wanted her to go with _him_.

" _What_ ," Ron choked.

Hermione ignored him; with a grunt of anger Ron got to his feet and stormed off.

The three sat in a momentary, uncomfortable silence.

"Hermione, I'll talk to him later; he's clearly not…"

"Don't worry about it, Harry," she assured quietly.

Harry paused, nodding warily. He decided it best to alter the conversation, not far from what his original question was going to be before Ron had come over. "So, who are you going with, Hermione," he asked curiously.

A smile broke across her face. Whilst still devastated, Draco was relieved to see the expression return to her face. "Oh, just… someone," she replied airily.

Draco felt hollow. He wanted her to go with _him_. He'd even _asked_. Although… it hadn't exactly been the words, _do you want to go to the dance with me?_ It suddenly dawned on him; he hadn't technically asked her. She may be clever, but to expect her to understand what he had really meant... Having been so nervous, he'd suggested the thought that they could pair up to the dance ,only _if_ they both didn't have anyone else to go with. Draco mentally hit himself. Of course this was going to happen. How could he have been so stupid?


	21. Chapter 21

Later, Draco sat sullenly in the common room, eyes watching the flames flicker in the fireplace. Hermione sat on the other side of the sofa, looking through her studies. Or so he thought.

"Draco?"

He nodded slowly, turning his gaze to her. "Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

With a sigh, he returned his eyes to the fire. "I'm fine," he muttered.

Silence resumed – interrupted by a soft shuffling. When he glanced back, he found her to have shifted closer to him. Hermione rose her eyebrows at him. "I'm not stupid. What's wrong?"

Draco frowned. He kept his eyes on the fire as he finally said, "Who is it that asked you?"

"Asked me what?"

Draco exhaled deeply, getting to his feet. Eyes not losing their place, he continued, "To go the dance with them."

He turned in surprise when he heard laughter from the sofa. " _What_?"

Hermione stood up, facing him. "That's what's put you in a mood this afternoon," she grinned. "Of course someone asked me to the dance."

"I know; you told myself and Potter earlier today," he reminded gruffly. "But who is it?"

" _You_ , stupid."

Draco faltered. "…What," he breathed finally. "But I… I thought, you had been asked by someone, else… I thought you assumed that my asking was only a backup…"

"Well, you made it seem that way," Hermione agreed, "But I knew what you meant. I mean, who else would you have asked? And who else would have asked me? Harry wouldn't; I even gave him the idea to ask Ginny. As for Ron… I couldn't. Not after all that's happened. So I guessed that, even if you had meant for the request to be only a backup, it was going to be inevitable anyway."

Draco absorbed her words carefully. He slowly sat himself down onto the sofa; Hermione followed.

"Well," he mumbled eventually. "I feel like a bit of idiot."

Hermione laughed; Draco couldn't help but smile.

* * *

 _No. Not again._

Draco jolted up from under his covers. _And he thought the_ nightmares _were going to be a problem…_ This was getting out of hand. These dreams were occurring more and more frequently.

These dreams of her.

Draco pushed himself out from his bed. He fumbled for his wand, and lit the way to the door of his room, careful not to make a noise. He slipped quietly down the staircase, and curled up onto the sofa in the common room. He picked up the nearest book, flicked desperately through… grabbed another, scanning through the pages…

There had to be an explanation for all this. Or, at the very least, an incantation to reduce it.

Defeated, Draco put down the last of the volumes and ran his hands through his hair.

This had lasted for a while now, and Draco wasn't exactly unobservant. He'd established that fact to himself that he very clearly liked Hermione. It was unavoidable, so it would seem.

But what could be done about it – _that_ was what stumped him.

He couldn't go and declare his feelings like a love sick idiot. That could ruin what he had left of a reputation. Although, it wasn't far from the truth.

He couldn't keep it from her. He'd tried, to begin with – but it was becoming more of a struggle every day.

He couldn't go and ask her. That was far too blunt... and, he had to admit, even slightly nerve-wracking. Besides; he was a Malfoy – he had dignity and class in his genes which he wasn't going to act against.

But he had to do _something_.


	22. Chapter 22

Hermione walked slowly down the staircase to the common room. Her studies had worn her out, and this morning it could be said she felt a little worse for wear. It didn't help that her argument with Ron had only been the previous day, and still weighted down against her shoulders.

She reached the door to the common room, and pushed it open.

The cold, bright weather from outside shone into the room. The first thing Hermione noticed was the overwhelming tidiness of it all. Of course, she made sure to keep things in place; she tried to tidy when she could, but studies, homework and helping Draco catch up became more of a priority. And it wasn't as if she or Draco were particularly messy people.

Yet the room looked spotless. Books neatly in the given cupboards and shelves; the fire roaring – a carefully balanced pile of firewood beside it. The tables were dusted, the chairs tucked neatly under them. The blankets had been folded and draped across the backs of the sofas, where the pillows of which sat at either end. The curtains had been pulled open, the windows sparkling with frost.

"Granger," Draco drawled pleasantly, getting up from where he occupied one sofa. "Nice to see you've woken up."

"…Draco – did… did you do this?"

He didn't answer, merely grinned. He nodded towards the cupboards housing the many books. "Alphabetical order," he commented. "By surname of the author. Does that appease?"

Hermione blinked, glued to the spot.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, grin widening into a smirk. He stretched, rolling his shoulders and running a hand casually through his hair. "I'll be going down to breakfast," he noted; he watched her nod slowly. "You're welcome to come with me," he added.

"Oh… right; yes, Draco," she mumbled, smiling as she went over to him. He strode towards the door, pulling it open and gesturing her ahead. Hermione's smile grew as she obliged and walked through, Draco in her wake.

...

Draco had taken his place, followed by Hermione, opposite Harry. The three ate their breakfast within the Great Hall amongst the rest of the school, as everyone slowly woke up.

Except for Draco. He was fired with an adrenaline that kept him comparably alert, unlike the rest of the students – and Professors – within the castle walls.

"Harry," Hermione asked politely, "Could you pass me the…"

Without looking away from his food, Draco – wand in hand – sent the jam jar to float from where it sat and towards Hermione. It landed softly beside her plate with ease. Hermione's sentence had long trailed away; she and Harry sent bemused looks towards the blonde. Only once it landed did Draco look up and grin at Hermione. "Strawberry jam," he stated, finishing her sentence for her. He nodded, "You're particularly partial to that one."

He returned to his breakfast. Hermione stared at him, before mumbling an inaudible agreement and going back to her plate, where she began spreading the jam on to her toast. Harry merely gawked towards Draco for several moments.

Draco noticed. "Are you alright there, Potter," he questioned, eyebrow arched in amusement.

Harry faltered, and quietly retreated to his own breakfast.

Draco bit back a grin. He turned his gaze towards Hermione. "Say, Granger," he asked casually. She glanced up at him in surprise. "We don't have lessons today, given it being a Saturday; what do you say you have a go at Quidditch with me outside?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Quidditch?"

Draco nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. I know it's not really your thing, but I've got to pay you back for all the studies you've been helping me with somehow. It's not as though I can repay you through lessons concerning intelligence of our academic studies, is it? You're top of the class. But Quidditch," he expressed with a gleam in his eyes, "Now that's something I can offer you."

Hermione's lips parted, yet words failed her. "…Well, Draco…"

"Come on, Granger," he encouraged. "Live a little! Besides, it might be a useful skill, later in life."

"But… I, I don't have, a broom…"

"Which is why we can make a quick stop to the broom cupboard," Draco solved, as if already having thought of any possible problems beforehand – which, of course; he had. His breakfast now finished, he got to his feet, patting Hermione warmly on the shoulder. "That's settled, then! Brilliant. I'll be upstairs in the common room."

At that, he smirked at Hermione, – who couldn't help but smile weakly in return – nodded towards Harry, and then strode brightly out of the Great Hall.

* * *

Wrapped up warm and well equipped, the two found themselves stood on the blanketed Quidditch Pitch, being the first to indent the light dusting of snow that morning. Draco handed Hermione a broom, and nodded to her to put in on the floor. She did so, doubt arising as a similar experience came from her memory, from back in the First Year. _She'd never been able to get the broom to follow her command._

"Hermione."

She looked up; Draco's gaze was directly on her. "Okay, so: don't be tense. Tense makes you doubtful, and doubtful makes you a difficult flyer – thus the broom won't listen to you. You need to appear confident – but you can be relaxed. Remember: the broom's just a stick with enchantments. That's all it is." He grinned, "But you are Hermione Granger. You're stronger. More experienced. You don't need to prove yourself to the broom. You just show who's in charge."

"Right," Hermione nodded.

"Okay." Draco stepped over, so as to now be stood directly opposite her. "You can remember what to do, I'm assuming."

She nodded. Hermione rose her hand above from where the broom lay on the ground.

 _Show who's in charge…_

"Up," she ordered sternly, closing her eyes to keep relaxed.

She jumped as her hand gripped against a rough, cold material – opening her eyes, she studied the broom she held in her hand.

"See? That wasn't so hard for Hermione Granger," Draco commented cheerily. Hermione blushed with achievement. "So: do you want to try flying?"

Hermione dropped the broom. " _Flying_?"

Draco laughed. "Yes Granger, flying. The actual purpose of the broom." He hesitated. "We don't have to play a full on game. We can just try out a few laps. But Potter doesn't need to know, of course," he smirked.

Hermione grinned.

"That looks like approval to me," Draco nodded, and picked up his own broom. He got into the pushing off stance, and glanced towards Hermione, awaiting her to copy his actions.

"Draco, I don't think I can… _fly_ – I've never really, flown on a broom…"

He stepped up from his broom and strode over to her. "Well then, we need to change that. First lesson: Let's take you for a ride."

Hermione faltered as he held out his broom towards her. She warily took hold of it, waiting for him to make a move.

"Well; sit on it, Granger."

She flushed, her cheeks warming against the chill of the wintery air. Hermione sat carefully on Draco's broom.

"Good," Draco nodded assertively. He stooped down, knees bent so as for him to be at eye level with her. "Right: so, make sure your feet are firmly on the ground, and evenly spaced from one another. Never have your back straight when you're about to kick off; you want to be as streamlined as possible at this point. Have a strong grip on the wood of the broom as well – we don't want you sliding off it." Hermione took in the information, forming a checklist in her mind. "You got all that?"

She nodded, even managing a grin. "Brilliant. Now watch out; I'm going to sit behind you."

He straightened to his full height, just as Hermione's expression dropped. " _What_?"

He did exactly as he said. Draco sat himself directly behind Hermione on the broom. He got himself back into the stance, and kept a hold of the part of the broom behind Hermione.

Draco looked over her shoulder. "Come on, Granger. You can do it."

Hermione took a deep breath, buoyed by his tactics and advice – and kicked off from the ground.

She kept her eyes firmly closed, whilst the wind whipped through her hair and ruffled her scarf.

"Look: Hermione," she could just catch Draco exclaim from behind her. Battling against the weather, she managed to pull her eyes open.

She must have moved instinctively from the sight, because the broom suddenly veered to a dangerous angle and Draco yelled, "Whoa!"

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut once more. His hands found themselves at her shoulders, as a gentle assurance of stability. "It's alright, Granger. You're doing fine." She heard him hesitate. "No, no; Hermione…" One of his hands left her shoulder, and the arm of which leant over across her. His hand curled around hers and adjusted its hold on the broom. His other hand swooped in to do the same with the other; thus, his arms were quite literally encasing her. His heat radiated off him, a comforting contrast against the bitter winds. She leant in closer against him, her back now pressed to his chest. He finished correcting her hands, but kept his over hers – whether that was to keep them from straying out of place, to keep her hands warm, or simply because this hug he'd unexpectedly wrapped her in was too calming to want to break from.

"Hermione," he whispered, his mouth close to her ear so as for his words to not be lost to the wind. "It's alright to look, you know. For a beginner, you're doing pretty damn well."

Hermione felt a smile grace her lips. She took a calm exhalation of breath, and reopened her eyes.

"Ah, ah; there we go," Draco said quietly with a smile. "You see? Look at that."

Hermione's eyes basked in the view. They weren't that high, but for her it felt like she was close to reaching the heavens. The hoops of the pitch were now only just above the height they sat at, yet still seemed to tower with a firm strength and structure. She reminded herself to look anywhere but the ground, and so far it seemed to be working.

"This is incredible," Hermione mumbled, agape.

Draco chuckled. "Why do you think I love it so much?" He nodded thoughtfully. "It's so calm up here. Nothing can bring you down – both, emotionally, and quite literally. It makes you feel a sense of freedom, doesn't it? Like you can do anything." He sighed contentedly. His mind wandered; his expression darkened. He hadn't flown at this pitch since the end of his Fifth Year.

He shook away the thought. "How about we go for a few laps?"

* * *

"Come on, admit it!"

Hermione grinned. "It was alright." She shivered, giving her the inspiration to add, "But _really_ cold."

Draco studied Hermione momentarily. She'd seemed to appear cold as they'd made their way back through the castle to the common room, but she had dismissed it every time Draco had asked her so on their journey.

In one swift movement, he pulled his jumper off, righted it – to then put it on Hermione. She yelped in surprise as the material looped over her head. He yanked it down over her torso with a grin.

"Hold still," he laughed as he grabbed her arm and sifted it through the arm of his jumper; to then repeat the action on the other side. Hermione's hair burst in a static frenzy at the whole thing.

Draco finished adjusting the sleeve of his jumper over her top's sleeve; his hand stayed circled around her slight wrist as he threw her a mischievous grin. She laughed.

"Warmer, are we now, Granger," he commented cheekily.

She shook her head at him in amusement. "By a fraction," she joked.

He arched an eyebrow. "Well, I don't think there's much else I can do, I'm afraid."

She grinned. "Are you sure?"

"Well," he drawled with a confident smirk – though suddenly he felt a lack of the character he'd put himself in so far that day. He did well not to show this, though. "I suppose there is… _one_ , thing, I could do."

Hermione rose her eyebrows in intrigued surprise.

Draco's hands grasped Hermione's shoulders as he dipped his head down and brushed his lips against hers. He no longer cared if it was rushed, didn't care about potential consequences.

He drew away slowly, his grey eyes observing her carefully.

Hermione stared at him for several moments. Her eyes danced over his expression: relieved, that he'd finally plucked the courage, yet there was a hidden worry; for whether he'd get her approval.

Her lips parted ever so slightly…

And she returned his gesture by kissing him back. At first surprised, Draco reciprocated thankfully, as Hermione's arms linked up around his neck. Draco kept his hands politely at her shoulders – much as he wanted them to rest around her waist.

The pair broke from the kiss, both flushed with warm colour.

"Not so cold now, are we," Draco breathed finally, smirking at her. She laughed quietly along with him as the two simply stood in the common room, both enraptured by the other's presence.


	23. Chapter 23

Hermione sat opposite Harry at Gryffindor table. Harry had already begun his lunch, whilst Hermione had only just sat down.

Harry glanced to the space beside her. "Where's Malfoy," he commented airily.

Hermione gave a sheepish smile. "He wanted to take a quick walk."

Harry frowned. "What does he want to do that for? Hasn't he been outside all morning?" He looked back to Hermione. "How did that go, by the way?"

She blinked in surprise. " _What_?"

"The Quidditch."

"Oh," she sighed in relief. "Yeah; that was brilliant."

Harry stared over towards her. "I never thought I'd hear myself say this," he muttered, "But Malfoy has finally done something right."

Hermione laughed.

Harry's attention was abruptly caught; Hermione followed his gaze towards the entrance of the Great Hall.

Draco Malfoy sauntered confidently past the two grand doors, strolling through with a broad grin plastered to his face.

" _He's_ in a good mood," Harry whispered.

The blonde continued with his assertive stride until he reached Harry and Hermione.

"Potter," he exclaimed brightly. "You look positively saintly today! And terribly worse for wear; I'm surprised the Weaselette has suffered with you for so long." He took his seat beside Hermione. "Nevertheless, we can't all stay mad at you, Scar head. I mean, I'd love to – I really would insult you all day, given the chance – but… isn't it just a bloody brilliant day today?"

Hermione rose her eyebrows and supressed her laughter; Harry looked dazed, as if having been hit by a hex.

Draco turned to face Hermione. "Granger! A pleasant surprise." He returned his gaze to Harry. "Wonderful day to play Quidditch, Potter. Played a fair game or two with Hermione here, myself. I tell you what, soon she'll be joining the team, the rate she's going. Brilliant stuff. Great weather for it, too."

Harry nodded warily. He went to interrupt, "Malfoy…?"

"I love Saturdays," Draco interjected brightly. He swung his gaze back to Hermione. His hand disappeared to grasp her own from under the table – unnoticed by that of Harry, or even others at the table. "What do you think, Granger?"

"Saturdays… well, even I have to admit, they're pretty brilliant," she said with a smirk.

"Exactly," Draco nodded in enthusiastic agreement, his smug grin far from wavering.

...

Draco strode out from the Great Hall, Hermione alongside him – the pair having excused themselves from Harry to study. Draco's gaze repeatedly caught snippets of her as they walked; he couldn't control the grin on his face.

The corridor they entered was sparse of people – both students and professors. Draco caught sight of a classroom door slightly ajar to one side, and quickly an idea arose.

His fingers laced around Hermione's wrist as he dashed into the abandoned classroom, pulling the door closed once they were both inside.

"Draco, what are you -?!"

He cut her off, pulling her into his arms and kissing her softly.

Draco broke away, his eyes glittering mischievously. "I had to," he confessed, with a light laugh. "I needed to know it wasn't a fluke."

Hermione rose her eyebrows. "Wasn't a fluke? Why couldn't you just ask, Draco?"

He shrugged. "Got more out of this," he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

Hermione blinked in surprised amusement.

"Anyway," Draco continued, after clearing his throat, "I wanted to ask you something."

"Could it not be asked in our common room," she questioned with a grin.

Draco pouted. "Granger, stop asking difficult questions and making logical points," he mumbled, yet spoken more with a loving whine than in annoyance.

She laughed. "Ask away," she gestured towards him.

He rose his eyebrows, the sudden prospect of his question finally hitting him, somewhat. "Hermione," he began, unsure of his words. "I haven't, liked you as a friend for very long – and neither have you liked me in return. But – and I suppose I must admit, it is thanks to you – past rivalry has been pushed aside, and I think I can't be exaggerating to say that this is thus a changing point in my life. Things have been difficult," he said, voice darkening at the thoughts rapidly swirling through his mind, "To be honest I never expected there would be much hope for me. Clearly you helped bring back my ego," he grinned. "Anyway, that wasn't my point: what I'm trying to say, is…" he frowned. "Granger; thanks."

Hermione rose her eyebrows. "No problem," she replied finally with a smile. "But it wasn't all down to me, you know. You could have easily ignored me."

"Well, Hermione – whilst my younger self would have been reluctant to admit this: I sincerely doubt I could have done. You see, at the time…" His hand rose to scratch nervously at the back of his neck. "I don't think I'd have had the effort to keep a hold of stubborn ignorance against anyone, even you. Hermione – you've become pretty important to me during the course of this year so far… but, I don't think, I'm quite up to giving a description of what happened during that time. For now, at least."

Hermione sighed, but gave an understanding nod. "Okay, Draco."

He frowned again. "Anyway, that wasn't even what I was planning to say." He paused to organise his thoughts, then turned his gaze directly to her. "You are my best friend, Hermione. It's not like I really have anyone else. And what happened, earlier today…" He watched as her expression dropped to a twinge of worry from the way he'd worded it. His eyebrows lifted; he brought a hand to hold one side of her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Hey, I'm not saying anything against it, Granger. I made the move, after all." Hermione brightened, eyes glittering and a smile perking up her features as a light blush tinted her cheeks. "No, I was merely wondering if you'd like to go out with me."

The blatancy of his statement stunned her slightly, even though she'd guessed his question was going to head in this direction. She grinned, studying his genuinely hopeful expression.

"You're a surprisingly sincere character, Draco," she commented.

"I certainly haven't always been, but I suppose one could say that; yes," he nodded. He went on with a smirk, "I'm also naturally charming. And clearly talented with both my intellect and pure skills. Known for my gift at Seeker, as well. Not just that…"

"Draco, you really don't need to brag about yourself to make me agree to your question," Hermione said, biting back a laugh.

He quirked an eyebrow. "Bragging? My dear Granger, I was stating factual evidence merely to create conversation whilst you came to your own decision." He grinned. "But, of course, I helped you to decide with my useful information, right?"

She shook her head in amusement. "Draco, I already made my decision, you dunce." He blinked in surprise; she took the opportunity to lean forward and kiss his cheek. "Why would I say no, you idiot," Hermione beamed.

* * *

Draco slipped into his room later that evening. Albeit having no reason to, he glanced around before pulling out his wand. He straightened his shoulders and narrowed his eyes towards the wand in his grip, before taking a deep breath.

His eyed fluttered shut as he began sifting for thoughts, for memories, for possibilities. His mind pointed him immediately to that of _her_. A smile lifted subconsciously across his face. He kept his thoughts directed at her. Hermione Granger.

He pictured her, fragments of memories piecing themselves together to display her before him.

His wand arm raised slightly.

He considered the overwhelming awe of her presence, and re-imagined as his lips met with hers.

His hand guided his wand in delicate, coordinated flicks.

He thought of being able to take her to the dance, to hold her in his arms and prove to everyone that she was now his. He grinned at the thought of being treated to everyone's surprise.

His lips parted.

 _"_ _Expecto Patronum."_

Swirls of great silver began to take form as the incantation enveloped the room. Draco beamed.

* * *

 **A/N - I had originally planned for this to be longer, but I think it works better like this (and I don't want it to be dragged out). It may not be my best pieces, but I'm chuffed I managed to complete it - and of course, I'm thankful for all the reviews!**  
 **I'll most likely be writing plenty of other things, so don't you guys worry ;)**

 **Phew! This was very interesting to do, as it was my first long, multi-chapter fic, which I have learnt from by making and I look forward to future ones!**

 **Thanks for reading x**


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